


How We Heal

by JulianObviouslyLovesToad



Category: Fire Emblem Echoes: Mou Hitori no Eiyuu Ou | Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia
Genre: Anal Sex, Boys Being Boys, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Repressed, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Love Confessions, M/M, Philosophy Hour With Python, Pining, Python Plays The Adult, Semi-Public Sex, Tobalicious, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-11-10 00:38:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11116257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JulianObviouslyLovesToad/pseuds/JulianObviouslyLovesToad
Summary: Lukas and Forsyth bond over their feelings for Clive while Python and Tobin grow closer over loving people who are equally unattainable.Tags will be updated as the story progresses.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [smile like you mean it](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11082750) by [Gay_as_fuck](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gay_as_fuck/pseuds/Gay_as_fuck). 



> While my incarnation of Lukas may not be quite as emotionally numb as their beautiful version, their fic still inspired me to approach the issue in a story of my own. 
> 
> Enjoy.

The mess tent was raucous after a hard fought victory. Though fighters were bruised and bandaged, and some bore even broken bones, spirits were high. The enemy was being pushed back, they'd retreated to lick their wounds affording Alm's army a few days' rest. The enemy's horses made a fine stew, as well as satay and sashimi, served over rice or alongside potatoes with whatever condiments were passed around. Relieved to have something other than a meal with a liquid base, Python tore at skewers of grilled meat while his companions chatted animatedly. Even Lukas seemed in good spirits, soft smiles coming easier, and a handful of open mouthed laughs wormed their way from the usually so quiet man despite the new scar about his elbow.

As it grew later, the mess tent calmed as most of the soldiers fled for sleep or other activities, a crate of ale broken open in celebration drawing a good deal of the men who weren't set to stand guard.

"-and did you see sir Clive today? Oh, he was in exquisite form," Forsyth breathed, hand about his chest. Lukas gave a little hum and nodded.

"Yes, Sir Clive did look to be in top form this morning," Lukas agreed. "His armor shined just so that he appeared a steel blue angel of death, that it blinded his enemies as his smile does his friends." While Forsyth nodded readily in agreement, Python pulled a face at the redhead's words, pursing his lips around the skewer he'd been absently chewing on.

He spat the skewer from between his lips and asked, "You been in that ale already, Lukey-boy?" Lukas gave an embarrassed little laugh.

"No," he said, "Forgive me. I suppose I'm feeling unusually poetic this evening. This battle was an important one and we managed it with so few casualties that even I am prone to a few delighted outbursts." He turned his attention to the loaf of bread the three of them had been sharing to mop up the remainder of their broths and sauces. Intending to break off another piece for himself, he pulled his hand back when Forsyth reached for the bread.

"Oh, sorry, sir. You first," Forsyth offered.

"No, no, after you. I've had plenty, I merely wished for it to not go to waste. If you are still hungry, I insist."

"My plan was exactly the same," Forsyth said and picked up what remained. He broke it in half and held one side out to Lukas, giving a toothy smile.

"What about Python?" Lukas asked, hesitant to take half.

"Nah, I'm full," he said, swiping up the last of the sauce on his plate with his finger. He put it in his mouth and made an inappropriate noise just to see Forsyth blush uncomfortably. "I eat a lot less than you meatheads," he teased.

"Very well," Lukas relented, taking the bread and thanking Forsyth.

The green haired lancer gave a happy sigh as he dunked bread into the drops of broth that remained in his bowl. "So, 'steel blue angel of death'," he repeated Lukas' words, "Did you read that somewhere, or did you come up with it on your own?"

Lukas turned his chin down slightly in what served as his own demure look of embarrassment. "Well," he started, "many battle maidens throughout history have been referred to as angels of death. I merely added the color of his armor. Perhaps it is a bit uncouth of me to refer to Sir Clive with such feminine terminology."

"Absolutely not," Forsyth cheered. "Sir Clive is a beautiful man, deserving of terms that claim such grace as 'angel'." Python made a gagging noise at Forsyth's words, sticking his tongue out. "Do you not agree, Python?" Forsyth asked, his shoulders squaring.

"Eh, I mean, he's alright, I guess. Not really my cup of tea, but if that's what you're into, more power to you," the archer said with a shrug.

"But sir Clive is a man that inspires passion in people," Forsyth breathed, his hand back at his chest. "From the way he carries himself to the way he keeps himself so neatly coiffed, even in the heat of battle as sweat runs over his distinct brow," Forsyth trailed off, closing his eyes. Lukas made a quiet noise of agreement. "And that beauty mark," Forsyth continued, a slight pink growing over the bridge of his nose, "along that strong jaw. It speaks of his high breeding, his ability- his right to hold himself over us should he want, and yet we're gifted with the privilege of speaking to him as friends. _Friends_ Phython," he stressed.

"Sounds like you wanna be more than friends," Phython teased, grinning as Forsyth's blush spread further. The bluenette stretched his arms above his head for a moment before adding, "I've just never really been into blondes. Dunno what to tell ya."

"This isn't just about hair color, Python!" Forsyth's words sounded scolding. "It's about every little thing that the man does creating one gorgeous whole." Lukas listened to Forsyth's words, a small smile on his lips. "It's those broad shoulders and trim waist, showing us all just how hard he works to maintain his physique. And those hands," the spearman breathed. Lukas blinked.

"Hands?" the redhead asked, leaning forward the slightest bit, his brows raised curiously. Phython groaned.

"Don't get him going," the archer complained.

"Despite their strength, they maintain a dignified grace, an elegance even as they hold a lance or sword and conduct battle like a dance with those leather gloves as a shimmering second skin..." Forsyth heaved a heavy sigh, his chest rising and falling with the motion. "Wouldn't you agree, Lukas?" he asked, turning glittering hazel eyes at the redhead who could only gape for a moment.

"I- well," he started, clearing his throat to buy himself a moment. "That is certainly some description," he admitted. "And here I thought I was feeling poetic," he said with a slight warm chuckle. "Where did you learn to command language the way Sir Clive commands his mount?"

Python grinned and slapped Forsyth's back as he declared, "his daddy was a learn-ed man." Forsyth turned to the other to slap his hand away from him, his blush of admiration growing into one of embarrassment.

"Is that so?" Lukas asked, his head tilted slightly.

"I may have spent many years of my childhood with my nose buried in books rather than training, as I would have preferred," Forsyth admitted barely louder than a whisper, his chin tucked to his chest.

Lukas chuckled softly. "There's no shame in that. In fact, I think it's wonderful that you were able to learn to read and write. Many do not have that opportunity, Forsyth. You've received a blessing from Mila, indeed."

"You don't think it a distraction from other things a knight in training should be doing instead?" Forsyth asked, his flush refusing to fade.

"Not at all," Lukas said softly. "A knight must be cultured as well as talented on the battlefield. I'm certain Sir Clive would be delighted to hear of your capabilities with a pen as well as a lance."

"Did you hear that, Python?" Forsyth gasped, turning toward the other.

"Yeah, yeah," the blunette groused. "Your crush will give you some attention. Good for you."

"This is more than a crush, Phython!" Forsyth raised his voice. Both Lukas and Phython balked. "Uh, wh-what I meant was that this is respect," he clarified, his blush spreading down into the neck of the padded shirt he still wore. "These feelings are not something to be joked about," he wound up muttering into his palm as he hid his face in it.

"There's no shame in being passionate, Forsyth," Lukas comforted.

"Passion is one thing," Python started, "but this guy here? Oh, he's got it bad for 'Sir Clive, The Brightest Shining Star in Alm's Army'." Forsyth continued looking away, his face twisted in embarrassment.

"Well," Lukas offered, "Sir Clive is an inspirational individual. I've seen a handful of others brought to moments of great passion over his words and his displays in battle."

"If by 'moments of great passion' you mean 'stuffing your hand down your pants and crying out out his name in the middle of the night', sure," Python mumbled to himself, brows pinched in irritation. He stood and took his plate. "Well, I'll let you two fanboys gossip about your crush for a bit longer. I'm gonna go see if I can't snag me a bottle of that ale I heard about earlier. Gimmie your bowls," he said, holding out his plate.

"That's, uh, mighty thoughtful of you, Python," Forsyth said, setting his bowl on the other's plate. Lukas followed suit with a quiet "thank you."

"Yeah, well, I'm headed that way anyway. I can be nice when it doesn't take too much effort," he said, looking away almost frowning. "Anyhoo, you girls have fun. Don't get your little hearts broken with all your fantasizing, now."

"Do I- do I really sound so- doting?" Phython heard Forsyth ask Lukas as the bluenette walked away. He couldn't help but scoff, dumping their dishes in a bin to be washed later as he made his way from the mess tent. He thought a drink sounded great.

 

* * *

 

A few hours later, when only the rowdier partiers still remained out and shifts were changing, Tobin was wandering back to camp from his post a few hundred meters out. He adjusted the strap of his quiver, eyes wandering around the trees that had leaves of brilliant shades of orange and peach shining near-silver in the moonlight. Some of the trees looked hearty enough to climb and they made his heart ache even though he couldn't help a small smile. His steps faltered when he noticed a figure underneath one of the trees and went to investigate, assuming a drunk soldier had wandered out of camp and collapsed.

Upon approaching, he recognized the other. "Oh, Python," he said. The named archer made an irritated noise in his throat and twisted a bit, trying to find a comfortable spot between the roots of the large tree. "What're you doing out here?" Tobin asked, taking off his quiver and bow, leaning them against the tree's thick trunk.

"Trying to get comfortable," Python complained. "The trees here ain't like they are back home, I'll tell ya. They got all these roots so close to the surface and they dig into your back like a bunkmate's unwanted morning wood."

"N- uh," Tobin sputtered, reaching up to a low branch with one hand. "Yeah, that's not a visual I want." Python snorted.

"It's not a feeling I want, either," Python said, turning his head to watch Tobin pull himself up onto the branch. "You just got off'a watch, didn't ya?"

"Yup," Tobin answered, planting his feet firmly on the branch to reach up to the next one. "Saw someone over here and wanted to make sure you weren't some drunk who'd stumbled out of camp and would be in serious pain tomorrow morning."

"Tch. Wasn't able to grab enough booze to get trashed, or anything." He could see a bit of Tobin through the branches, bits of his pale shin and the buckles on his boots and light armor nearly glowing in the light that made it through the leaves. "But, I mean, I've got enough for us to both get that warm butterfly feeling if ya wanna come down here and share it." Python picked up the bottle that had been resting at his hip and swished around it's contents.

"Warm butterflies?" Tobin asked. Python heard a couple of twigs snap up in the tree, but couldn't see what the brunette was doing.

"Yeah," Python said with a chuckle. He took a swig before he continued, "ya know, like when you first get a new crush?" Tobin made a disgusted noise and threw something aside, a small object hitting the ground and rolling away. "What? You don't like that feeling?"

"Bad fruit," Tobin clarified, pulling thinner branches toward himself in search of another. "But, nah, I don't really like that feeling, either. Crushes are," and he grunted while pulling a fruit from it's stem, the branch snapping back into place with a loud rustle of leaves, "annoying," he settled on.

"You said it," Python agreed. "Forsyth has had this crush on Clive since before we even joined up with the Deliverance. It gets worse every damn day, every time the man says something nice to him he turns into the fugly girl at the ball who finally gets noticed and tells anyone who will listen." He heard Tobin snort. "He's taken to writing poetry about the man."

"Poetry?"

"Yeah, all this mushy shit like 'O brave knight in armor of blue, words cannot capture my respect for you,' and all that froufrou junk."

"Gross," Tobin commiserated. "Sounds like Faye."

"That girl with the braids who is always on Alm's arm and growling at every gal who gets near 'im?" Tobin snorted again.

"Yeah, that's her." Tobin sighed. "She always turns the conversation back to Alm. It gets annoying after a while. I miss when she used to bust Kliff's balls about being a wuss and hassle Gray about not being able to cook worth a damn."

"Yeah, well, when girls get to a certain age all they care about is boys," Python groused, turning up the bottle again. Another fruit hit the ground.

"It's not just girls. Gray's head is so far up Clair's behind that she may as well be a hat."

"Ha!" and Python doubled over with laughter. When he calmed, he found he had to wipe a tear from his lashes and sat up, leaning back against the tree. He tried to get a better look at Tobin, but couldn't see much more than before. "Hey, wait. Didn't you have a thing for Clair?"

"Eh," Tobin said, yet another fruit hitting the ground. "She's nice and all, when she remembers to treat us like people rather than tales of intrigue, but I really just wanted to give Gray shit." Python blinked when Tobin dropped down in front of him. He was almost surprised that the brunette had landed on his feet. The front of his overalls bulged awkwardly as he knelt, but the bluenette suddenly understood when Tobin started taking fruits out of them. "Persimmons," he explained, prying one open with his thumbs. "Want one?"

"Eh, sure. Why not?" He sat up and accepted the half he was given. He slurped out some of the middle and filling the small space back up with ale. Tobin raised a brow at the action.

"It's like those fancy drinks they sell ya at those upscale taverns. Try it," Python suggested, holding out the bottle with his free hand. Tobin gave in with a chuckle and took the bottle, filling his half of the fruit with it. When the younger man put the fruit to his lips, Python thought more ale and juices dribbled down his chin than made it into the other's mouth and laughed. "You're supposed to drink it, not wear it," he teased.

"Well excuse me for never having used a persimmon as a cup before," Tobin griped, wiping his chin with his forearm. He tried a second time with a bit more success and his attention was caught by the sheer brilliance of stars in the night sky. He hadn't taken the time to look up since he'd left Ram, always being too exhausted to stop and admire, or in towns where street lanterns burned brightly enough to distract from the heavens above. "Nice night," he said after turning his head back to look at Python feeling the slightest bit embarrassed, used to Gray's teasing when he got caught staring at the stars in wonder.

"Yeah, it is," Python agreed. "Might not be the best booze, but it works, and the company ain't bad, so," he trailed off, offering Tobin the bottle again.

The two shared the drink and the rest of the fruit Tobin had picked in silence, enjoying not being alone for the moment, and not having to come up with anything to say to find a reason not to be.


	2. Chapter 2

Tobin couldn't help but heckle Gray as the two walked from the healers' tent. The darker haired young man had wound up there not after a battle, but for getting stumbling drunk after being allowed to drink unattended and cracking his head on the ground.

"Hey, shut up," Gray complained, "this ain't exactly like having a drink with my old man. I wanted to let loose a little."

"Well, it looks like you let loose a lot," Tobin teased. "Got too loose and-"

"Gray! Tobin!" Clair cheered, hurrying up to the two. Gray's irritated expression gave way to a bright and goofy smile. Tobin set his jaw, trying not to let his irritation show. When he turned to look at Clair, though, he did manage to give a real smile. "Look what I found!" she said, showing them the little black piglet in her arms. "I never knew they were so cute! Oh," she looked sad for a moment, rocking the piglet like a baby, "I don't think I'll ever be able to eat them again." She looked up at both of the young men and raised her chin. "Why didn't either of you tell me they were so cute?" she demanded.

"I don't think they're particularly cute, but if you-"

"Aw, we didn't want to hurt your feelings, babe," Gray interrupted. "They taste real good, and they're easy to take care of, ya know?" Clair's expression brightened.

"They're easy to take care of?" she asked, almost in a sing-song tone. "Do you think I could bring this one with me? Could I keep it in my tent? Oh, but it would soil everything. How about a cage? Can pigs be kept in cages?"

"There is no way Sir Clive would let you keep a pig," Tobin reasoned, trying not to laugh at Clair's enthusiasm.

"He will if I cry," she said, a devious smile on her face. Tobin couldn't resist laughing then. "So, you've yet to answer my questions. Can a pig be kept in a cage?"

"Well, uh," Gray started, looking to Tobin for a hand. The younger man simply shrugged. "Well, I guess they can, but they need food and water, and you'll have to bathe it."

"That sounds like a lot of work," Clair lamented. "Not to mention I'll have to move the cage myself or pay someone else to do it."

"And clean it," Tobin added.

"I mean, I wouldn't mind carrying the cage for you, but you'd have to pay me to clean it," Gray said, putting his hands on his hips. He cocked one and turned a cheek toward Clair. "I accept payments in the form of kisses and dinner dates," he lilted. Clair furrowed her brow, then got an idea.

"I really want to keep this pig," she said, looking at Tobin. "Kiss Gray for me."

"Uh-" Tobin stammered, so surprised by her words that he took a step back. "I- I'm sorry?"

"Please, Tobin! I don't want this little cutie to become someone's dinner!"

"He meant from you!" Tobin said, his face heating with a blush. Gray looked absolutely mortified, his hands over his face. "And that pig is really young. It's still got several months before it becomes anyone's dinner, anyway."

"Still, I wanted to name him and keep him with me," she said, brows drawn together as she looked down at the creature in her arms, enamored by it's snout that moved with it's breath and beady little eyes. "Are you sure you won't take kisses from Tobin, Gray?" she begged.

"Tobin's not a pretty girl!"

"Ya don't say?" Tobin muttered, staring at Gray with an unimpressed look.

"Well, he's kind of pretty," Clair said, looking uncertain. "He has nice hair," she almost whined. "Can't you just pretend he's a pretty girl?"

"You think I'm- pretty?" Tobin asked, pulling a face.

"Well, you aren't ugly," Clair offered.

"I'm pretty too, right?" Gray asked, splaying his hands. His smile was as awkward as Tobin felt.

"Mm, no," Clair said. Tobin managed to bite back his urge to laugh at the way Gray's face fell. "Almost handsome. Keep at it and you'll get there eventually. Now, about Sir Artimisios-"

"Look, Gray," Tobin taunted, nudging his friend with his elbow, "a pig got knighted before you."

"Eh, just my luck," Gray moaned. Tobin smiled almost bitterly, torn between satisfaction and sympathy, and between embarrassment and pride at Clair's pseudo-comment.

 

* * *

 

Lukas had already enjoyed spending time with Forsyth, finding his determination and work ethic infectious. But, as the army marched on he realized he had another reason for enjoying the other's company; he could put the way he felt for Clive into words. Beautiful, enchanting words, really. Words that he couldn't find within himself even in moments of great inspiration. Occasionally he would miss Python's ability to keep Forsyth's passions reigned in, but since he so rarely indulged in anything of the sort, he would encourage the green haired man to continue speaking of their former leader and listen with eyes closed, responding only when Forsyth asked it of him.

Lukas began to join Forsyth on his watches when they camped, allowing Python to slip away. He supposed he shouldn't have let Python leave but, as the numbers remained the same, it didn't seem like too much of a loss. He shortly started assigning Python to a different post some nights. Lukas had no intention of coming between the friends, but finding a reason to speak with Forsyth outside of patrols and when he could manage to take food with the others was difficult.

One watch, set at the point furthest forward, closest to the danger where Forsyth seemed to thrive, Lukas decided to ask a question:

"How would you describe your feelings for Sir Clive?"

Forsyth seemed surprised, turning his attention from the faraway treeline to his companion. "I thought I'd made that perfectly clear," he said, brows drawn together. "Have I been unclear in some capacity?"

Lukas looked over briefly, offering a small frown. "You've only really applied the word 'respect' to how you feel for Sir Clive," he said. "With how you speak of the man, I was wondering if it might be something more. If you feel I'm putting my nose where it doesn't belong, forgive me and I will drop the subject."

Forsyth took a deep breath. He looked around once more, a little more conspiratorially than his usual attentive sweep of the area.

"I would hate to ask you to keep a secret from Sir Clive, but I'm afraid I couldn't bear the results of my shortcomings should they ever see the light of day," Forsyth admitted, a pained look on his face. Lukas could sympathize, his heart often torn asunder by the heft of his feelings hanging from it.

"Of course. So long as what you have to say will have no impact on the function of the army or the command structure, your secret is safe with me."

"Please don't think me ribald," Forsyth begged, "I've come to value your friendship as much as any other I've forged over the years, so if what I am about to say repulses you, then I will speak no more of the matter." Lukas simply cocked his head, silently imploring the other to continue. "I've feelings for Sir Clive that no man should bear for another, much less a superior who is engaged to be wed to a beautiful, wonderful woman such as Lady Mathilda."

"You love him," Lukas observed, a weak smile on his lips. Forsyth turned his head slowly to make another sweep of the land, to not look at Lukas as he responded.

"I fear so," Forsyth said, unable to look at Lukas.

"You thought I would be repulsed by this revelation?" Lukas asked, moving into Forsyth's line of sight to see if the other would look away. He did.

"It is generally seen as unseemly for one man to have romantic feelings for another. Maybe not so much when they are equals, but when one is a superior officer," he trailed off for a moment to just breathe, "when one hopes to be knighted, to serve, to gain glory and the respect of the people..."

"If that is the case, then I suppose I have had some untoward feelings myself," Lukas admitted. He huffed out a little laugh through his nose. "It would be hypocritical of me to pass judgement on another for something that I am guilty of." Forsyth looked at him then and Lukas offered a small smile.

"You've feelings for Sir Clive as well?" Lukas merely closed his eyes in response. "Feelings of a romantic nature?"

"I am afraid so," Lukas admitted, not opening his eyes. "It is difficult not to fall in love with a man like that," he said, finally opening his eyes. Forsyth made a little sound in his throat at the way Lukas' eyes shone in the light of the moon and their lantern, hooked on the branch of a tree a short way away so it would not blind them. "It had taken me some time to realize, since it wasn't really something I had felt before. I'd never intended to tell anyone, but I was almost certain you felt the same way. It feels," Lukas paused to bring his hand up to his chest, fingertips brushing his breastplate over his heart, "good to share these feelings with someone. As if a weight I hadn't even known I was bearing was lifted off my shoulders." Forsyth stared for a moment longer and a look of surprise briefly passed over Lukas' features. The redhead turned away, a small smile on his lips. "Forgive me for being so emotional," he asked.

Forsyth sat in the patchy grass and laid his lance across his lap, surprising the redhead, who stood by awkwardly. The lancer buried his face in his hands and his shoulders shook. "It hurts, doesn't it?" he asked, voice weaker than Lukas had ever heard it.

"Hurts?" Lukas asked, switching his lance to his off hand so that he could take a knee and place a hand on the other's pauldron.

"To love someone who is unattainable regardless of circumstance," Forsyth managed, "to have desires that are contradictory to your dreams." Lukas hummed quietly in agreement, taking a look around to ensure their safety. "I can't bear these feelings," the lancer breathed. "Admitting them makes them that much more real. They feel like a lance in my chest when I'm alone."

"I'm not sure how I feel about my sentiments. As I knew they would never be returned, I hadn't given them too much thought. I think, sometimes, the longing is pleasant."

"Pleasant?" Forsyth asked, sitting up straight to look at Lukas. "How can such _pain_ feel pleasant?" Lukas sat and folded his hands over his knees.

"Perhaps it is because I'm not given to many passions that any feeling of such intensity is, in some way, a pleasant experience. I hope that explains it."

"I don't understand," Forsyth admitted. "How can you enjoy - even stand - the feeling of your heart being ripped from your chest every time you see someone?"

"Because it reminds me that I have one," Lukas said, a look of wonderment on his face at having the exact words to describe his feelings for once. Forsyth looked just as awed.

"Lukas," he breathed, reaching a hand out to the other's knee.

The redhead gave a reserved smile and the two sat together for the rest of their watch in companionable silence.

 

* * *

 

Unable to sleep, Python wandered over to the weapons storage, giving a loose wave to the men guarding the tent. One pulled the flap aside for him to enter.

As he restocked his quiver, another person joined him.

"Tobalicious," Python greeted with a lazy grin. Tobin groaned, earning himself a snort from the other archer.

"Don't you start with the stupid pet names," he complained. He grabbed a fistful of the arrows Python had been counting out and the bluenette grumbled. "What're you doing up, anyway? Don't you prefer sleep to, well, anything?"

"Oh, consciousness, that annoying time between naps," Python mock lamented. "But, nah, just couldn't sleep. Been so used to taking this guard shift with Forsyth that my sleep schedule has kinda been formed around it."

"So, why aren't you on watch right now?" Tobin asked, plucking more arrows out of a trunk of them, handing them off to Python. Python scoffed.

"Forsyth's been taking watches with his little boyfriend instead of me lately," he said, a hint of bitterness finding it's way into his voice.

"At least he has one," Tobin muttered.

"No kidding? Som'n ya wanna tell me?" Python asked, leaning his elbow on a table, resting his chin in his palm.

"Nope. Not really," Tobin said, rubbing a clump of wax along the string of his bow. Python raised a brow and continued to look at Tobin as he massaged the wax into the string. The brunette's shoulders hunched, climbing closer to his ears the longer the older man stared. "I'm just feeling a little lonely, I guess."

"Yeah, you and every other hot-blooded guy in this joint."

"Som'n you wanna tell me?" Tobin teased, offering Python the jar of wax for his bow.

"Nope. Not really," the older man said, and the two shared a smirk. Python yawned as he started waxing his string. "It's just too quiet without Forsyth nagging me all the time anymore. I got so used to it that I can't fall asleep without him bitching at me about one thing or another. At least, not at night. I can sleep during the day just fine."

"Sucks when your best friend falls in love with someone else," Tobin commiserated.

"Yeah, well, what can you do?" Python asked, stringing his bow. "It's not like I ever thought anything would come of that, anyway. He's terribly ashamed of being into both for whatever reason, and I've no shame, so," he trailed off, testing the bow's tension.

"Forsyth never really struck me as being into men," Tobin said, shouldering his quiver.

"That's 'cause he doesn't wanna give off that vibe. But," and he drew out the word, "everyone knows since he's constantly brown-nosing Clive." The brunette laughed from somewhere in his throat. "There's nothing I can do, though, so I'm not letting it get to me." He slung his bow over his shoulder and head, crossing it over his chest.

Tobin blew out a huff, his bangs fluttering with it. "Wish it were that easy for me." he complained.

"It's pretty easy once you can convince yourself that nothing really matters in the end," Python said.

Tobin held open the flap of the tent and the bluenette walked through, giving an overdramatic curtsy in thanks. "That sounds nihilistic as all get out."

"Nihilism gets a bad rep," Python started, motioning for Tobin to follow him, "but I think it makes life beautiful."

"How? If there's no point to life, why do anything?" the brunette asked, wondering where the other was leading him.

"Because some things are fun? Because food tastes good? Because some people who wander in and out of your life make you feel good?"

"If that's all you're really concerned about, why are you here? Ya know, fighting- and where are we going?"

"Right here," Python answered, stopping them just outside of camp. "Walnut trees. Let's shoot some down and break them open. I've got some spare gloves in my back pocket so we won't stain our hands." He nocked an arrow and took aim. "And I'm here for the same reason you are: gotta get that gold. Oh, and so Forsyth doesn't get his dumb ass killed." He hit two walnuts with the same arrow. They knocked another one from the tree as they banged against branches on the way down. Tobin took aim and, with the rattling of fruits falling, managed four nuts.

It became a game. Midnight Walnut Hunting, aided only by the waxing moon.

"It still sounds kind of empty," Tobin said, though he was smiling, enjoying their game.

"That's what everyone says," Python responded, his tongue on his lower lip as he took aim once more. "But I have friends. I feel fulfilled when I earn my meals. I don't need ridiculous, unattainable dreams."

"What about love?"

"What about it?"

"Do you even believe in it?"

"Of course I do, dumbass. I thought I implied that I was in love with Forsyth, just like you were implying you're in love with Gray." Tobin's eyes widened and his arrow arched wide, missing it's mark by several feet. "What? Was I wrong?" Python asked, putting his free hand on his hip.

"No, but- It's just weird to hear it out loud, is all," Tobin muttered and started picking up their salvageable arrows. "Didn't think anyone would ever actually say it. I didn't plan on it, that's for sure."

"You gotta say it to get over it," Python advised, putting on the gloves he'd brought to start picking up walnuts. Tobin made a vaguely pained noise. "Say it," the bluenette said firmly, shaking out a small cloth bag he'd stuffed in his pocket. Tobin put half of the salvageable arrows in each of their quivers, his lips set in a thin, firm line. "Alright," Python said, tossing the fruit-shelled nuts into the bag, "keep it in for the rest of your life. Become a bitter old man."

For a long moment, Tobin's harsh breathing and the dull sounds of walnut fruits smacking into each other were the only sounds either of them heard. The world seemed to have narrowed down to just the two of them, so Tobin steeled himself, curling his hands into fists at his sides. Though his voice shook with the tears he refused to shed, he managed, "I'm... I'm in love with Gray." Python looked up and blinked. "Shit," Tobin cursed, digging the leather palms of his gloves into his eyes as tears poured from them.

"There ya go," Python said, dropping the bag at their feet. He wrapped one arm around Tobin and pulled him close, letting the younger man cry into his padded shirt. "It'll get easier to deal with," Python promised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm now calling Tobin "Tobalicious" because my boyfriend laughs every time I say it.


	3. Chapter 3

Lukas welcomed Forsyth into his tent when the other showed up, holding the material open so the green haired man could enter. When Forsyth realized the other was shirtless, he gave a loud offer to return later with eyes averted.

"It's alright, Forsyth. The march is no place for being over-modest," Lukas said, picking up where he left off wrapping his middle with bandages. Forsyth watched for a moment, but soon got his wits about him and set the food he'd brought with him on a small, portable table set up next to Lukas' cot.

"Could you use a hand?" Forsyth asked. Lukas looked up, a look of confusion on his slack features. Then he chuckled.

"I suppose it would go a bit faster," Lukas relented, allowing the other to take the wrap from his hands. "Oh," Lukas gasped when fingers brushed his skin as the other wrapped his arms around the redhead to swap hands holding the bandages, "your hands are warm."

"Well, I was just holding soup," Forsyth gave with an awkward laugh. "Might I ask what happened?"

"Ah, it was just a scrape. No longer than my middle finger and shallower than," Lukas soothed, lifting his arms so that the other had easier access. "The tip of a spear grazed me. The loss of my favorite coat was more painful." Lukas laughed softly, the sound fading to an uncertain noise when Forsyth met his gaze.

"Why didn't you see a healer?" Forsyth asked, not stepping back once he was finished. "It sounds like something that could easily be taken care of." Lukas shivered when Forsyth rested his hands over the bandages carefully.

"Our healers were so tired. Many of us with only minor scrapes decided to clean them ourselves and see them in the morning," Lukas answered, his voice not wavering despite his shaking. The younger man drew in a deep breath when Forsyth released him and stepped back.

"You will see one in the morning, right?"

"Of course," Lukas said with a nod. He hid a sigh behind his hand when the spearman turned his attention to their food. He took the bowl when it was handed to him. He thought briefly that he should put on a shirt, but the soup smelled delicious and they were in the privacy of his tent, cramped though it was with two people in it, so he ate.

They talked about the battle they'd just endured between bites of a hearty vegetable soup in beef broth, the young noble finding it curious that Forsyth didn't bring up Clive once. Instead, the passionate young man spoke of Alm and Gray and the young men and women he helped to supervise. When their food was gone, they sat cross-legged on Lukas' cot, discussing books they'd both read. The owner of the seating arrangements couldn't help but notice that his companion kept staring at his profile when he thought Lukas wasn't looking.

"Is something wrong, Forsyth?" the redhead cut off the conversation they'd been having to ask.

"N-no, sir," he defaulted to using honorifics as a result of being caught off guard. "It's just, well, your hair," he trailed off, motioning to the red waves.

"My hair?" Lukas asked, aborting a gesture toward it halfway through.

"It's mussed," Forsyth clarified. Lukas laughed softly.

"Well, we can't all have Sir Clive or even Lady Clair's elegant locks."

"Allow me to-" Forsyth started, scooting closer, reaching over to brush the younger man's hair out of his face. Lukas' jaw went slack as he was practically petted, Forsyth's hands moving his locks this way and that. He kept his shoulders squared and folded his hands in his lap to keep them from visibly quaking. "My, it's unruly, isn't it?" Forsyth asked, his voice lowered as if they were sharing a secret. Lukas found himself unable to respond, warring with himself just to keep his breath even. "Oh, that looks nice. Have you ever considered wearing your hair in a side part?"

Lukas opened his eyes, blinking a few times. Forsyth was close, his eyes impossibly wide and such a deep forest green that Lukas' breath caught. He ached to reach out and touch or even strike, a sudden desire to ruin the moment flaring up in him, but he kept his hands still. When Forsyth's eyes closed, a slight "oh dear" passed Lukas' lips.

When Forsyth found his mouth pressed to Lukas' fingers, the redhead's hand between their lips, he pulled back as if burned.

"Oh gods, Lukas," he gasped, covering the lower half of his mouth with his hand. "Forgive me, I shouldn't have thought-"

"No," Lukas said softly, his hand moving back to his lap. "What I mean is that you needn't ask my forgiveness. I," and he sighed, "want to kiss you."

"You do?" Forsyth asked, a hand folded by his chest in a nervous gesture. "Then why did you stop me? Have I done something wrong?"

"You've done nothing wrong, Forsyth," Lukas soothed. "I am unsure of how to say this, so please bear with me," he asked. The knight-hopeful nodded hesitantly, a little, jerky motion. "When I realized what you were doing, I could think of nothing I wanted more in that moment than to be kissed. That is why I stopped you." When Forsyth said nothing, simply looked at him and listened, Lukas realized he hadn't said enough. He continued, "I fear I am what some may call desperate for affection." He laughed and moved to fold his legs under himself, sitting in a more proper fashion. "I long for it like an infant yearns for it's mother's breast, but I must restrain myself as I don't wish to cause you distress."

"How would you cause me distress?" Forsyth asked, his voice nearly reaching it's usual resonance. He made to reach out for Lukas, but drew his hands back into his own personal space when the other's gaze snapped to them. The redhead then looked back up to his face. "I initiated it."

"Yes, however, I had assumed your heart was unavailable and hadn't more than mused, in passing, over the idea of being with you. I hadn't stopped to think if that little spark that garnered my interest was an honest one, or if it came from our shared feelings for Sir Clive." Lukas turned his gaze toward his hands and gave a muted smile. "If it were the latter, and I gave in to my desires only to find that my feelings for you weren't true," he looked back up to find the green haired man looking away, worrying a nail with his teeth, "well, I don't want to do that to you, Forsyth. Your friendship means so much to me, and I don't think a relationship born of desperation is one a friendship can recover from."

"Please forgive me," Forsyth asked, taking his fingers from his lips to fold his hand by his chest once more in his usual impassioned posture. "I hadn't thought that maybe my own feelings came from that source as well. And forgive me for not asking before I plowed through such a sensitive subject, before I invaded your personal space and behaving in a way that is too familiar." When he finished, the older man gave a heavy sigh and let his hand come to rest on his leg.

"Forsyth, do not misunderstand me," Lukas said, offering his hand to the melancholy lancer, "I wish for us to be familiar, even if we choose to remain friends." He smiled when he found his hand full of fingers that shook as much as his own. "As long as we understand exactly what these touches mean, I would like to share this sort of intimacy with you. It," and he took a moment to think of how to phrase his next words, "feels good. However, before we speak of such things as romantic entanglements, we both have some thinking to do."

"Should I see myself out?" Forsyth asked.

"Perhaps it would be for the best," Lukas answered with a nod, tightening his grip briefly. "Only for tonight, that is. I will see you in the morning for mess duty."

Forsyth nodded, drawing his hand away as slowly as he could, standing before their fingers parted. When the lancer left, Lukas shivered until he remembered he was without a shirt and slipped into one so he could walk camp and ponder.

 

* * *

 

Over the weeks that followed, the two spoke less about Clive when they had a chance to meet for meals or took watches together, rather they spoke of shared hobbies. It took more than a little prompting to find that Forsyth did enjoy certain genres of fiction, and Lukas promised him an opportunity to peruse his personal collection upon the war's end. The knight hopeful would drag Python along with him when they marched, even though the bluenette generally preferred to remain near the rear of their specific squadron. Though he found he didn't mind so much when it brought him closer to his new friend, who was one of those always clustered around Alm as they traveled. Tobin often fell back a few paces to chat with the older man, their laughter infectious, bringing a smile to even Alm's face, and Faye's by proxy. Silque would enjoy Faye's good humor and so on until every man and woman held their heads a little higher and breathed a little easier despite the danger looming on the horizon.

As Lukas and Forsyth's friendship evolves, grows into something of more substance than mutual pining and commiserating, the redhead comes to spend more time in the tent Python and Forsyth share. While the bluenette enjoys spending time with the 'ginger stud' in more open areas, when they're just chatting, the tent - which was barely big enough for Python and Forsyth's cots and bags to lay flush together - starts to feel more than a little crowded when the three of them try to sit comfortably. Python takes it upon himself to give the two a little space, even though he thinks Forsyth could just go to Lukas' tent, which is almost as big as their own and not shared. The archer also thought Lukas' tent might have insect netting built into it and wondered why the redhead would rather spend time in their tent than his own, but decided it didn't matter, put it up to Lukas' desire to appear approachable and gave the two some time alone.

He certainly didn't mind giving them time to themselves when there was ale in it for him.

As battles grew more fierce, celebrations of victories grew more rowdy. Inebriated men danced with other men and the women of the army flitted between them, extending a hand to whomever they pleased to be spun like a pinwheel and laugh long and hearty. The injured and lazier soldiers cheered on the dancers, clapping and stomping out a beat for them to sway to.

After watching the goings on from the sidelines and having nearly a whole bottle of sauce to himself, Python joined the fray. He was awash with joy, snickering as men and women alike spun his lithe body and soldiers howled their appreciation of the performance. When he stumbled into a familiar shoulder, he gave a pleased hum.

"Came to dance with me, Tobibaby?" he asked, lascivious grin on his face, turned down at Tobin. His own slender hands wandered over almost too-thin shoulders, more holding himself up than groping, but indecent nonetheless. Tobin snorted.

"Man, you're trashed," he noted.

"Yeah," Python admitted, feigning shyness. He felt as though Tobin was sweeping him off his feet, swaying to the thundering feet as the brunette moved them from the middle of the fray. "You haven't had a drop, have you?"

"Nope. Sure haven't," Tobin gave, leaning Python against double stacked crates away from the heat of the fire and pulsing, swaying bodies. "I don't like drinking with large groups. If there's more than, like, five people around, I don't drink." Python's eyes widened in surprise.

"Wha?" Python drew out the attempt at the word. "That's when it's the mos' fun! When everyone is drunk, ya don't look like a jackass!" Tobin coughed out a laugh in response.

"That's because everyone looks like jackasses," the brunette quipped.

"Well, ind'vidual trees make up a forest," Python said with a little nod. Tobin's lips twisted up in a confused smile. He patted the older man's bicep.

"Maybe you should get to bed."

"Now you're speaking my language," Python cheered.

"Your own bed," Tobin clarified.

"Eh, party pooper," Python groused. "Can't really go there, anyway. Lover Boy and Dreamy are in there. What if they're," he stopped to snicker, "busy," he finished conspiratorially.

"Uh," the brunette stammered, "I'll check before I throw you in there. Now, come on. Work with me here." He took one of the other archer's arms, hooking it over his shoulders and taking a good deal of Python's weight.

"Nah, let's go shoot at some targets," Python whispered.

"You're to drunk to hold a cup, much less a bow. Don't be a dumbass."

They managed to get back to Phython's tent and found it empty. The bluenette heaved a sigh of relief and splayed himself over both goose feather mattresses as soon as he was free of Tobin's grip. He managed to get his padded shirt open, but couldn't seem to figure out how to get his chain shirt over his head.

"Wanna help me out here?" Tobin tried to frown, but wound up laughing.

"You're a grown man," he teased, "you can undress yourself."

"Well," the prone man huffed, "obviously not or I would'nt be tangled up in this shit right now."

"Oh my god, you're worse than Gray," Tobin complained, but knelt anyway. He pulled the padded shirt off of Python's arms and sat it aside. He barely resisted the urge to deck the other when he spoke;

"Yeah? Gonna pine for me like you do him?"

"I should have left you out there," the brunette complained, pulling the chain shirt off a bit too roughly. "Should've let you drink yourself sick and wake up with bruises."

"And probably a sore butthole, knowing this army. Yikes," Python joked. Tobin did manage to frown then. "Hey, I may have avoided the puking and the bruises, but I can still wake up with a sore ass if ya wanna help me out," the bluenette offered, wiggling his brows.

"Oh my gods," Tobin groaned. "Go the fuck to sleep," he ordered.

"I can't 'go the fuck to sleep' without the fuck part," Python complained, snickering. He tried to sit up, but Tobin's hand on his chest pushed him back down. "Ooh, kinky. I can work with this." Tobin rubbed his eyes with his free hand.

"Will you just-" and he stopped, looking down to find Python nodding off. "Oh, that's right, people nagging you puts you to sleep, huh?"

"Mmhm," the bluenette confirmed, "now tell me I'm a lousy slugabed."

"I- is that- a fetish of yours?"

Python's laughter quickly faded to snoring. When Tobin was sure the other was asleep and would stay down, he pulled his hand back and sat on the remaining mattress space. He folded the clothes he'd helped the other remove and sat them off to the side. After a moment, he looked back at Python and considered arranging him so that he'd be laying only on his own cot, but decided against it, chose to let him be woken by Forsyth's complaining later. When Tobin found himself wondering if he would have taken Python up on his offer had the man been sober, he muttered "nope" to himself and hurried from the tent.

 

* * *

 

Forsyth and Lukas could hear the partiers around various campfires from their post outside the weapons tent. Having taken stock of everything and recorded it, they stood outside and listened to the vague sounds drifting their way on the breeze, enjoying the joyous evening.

"Have you come to any conclusions regarding our situation?" Lukas asked out of the blue. Forsyth jumped, earning himself a small chuckle.

"I have given it a great deal of thought," the older man admitted. "I must admit that I do still have feelings for- well, you're aware- and those will take time to fade, however," he looked around, relieved to find no one milling about, "I've considered my feelings for you and come to find that, while our friendship may have been forged by Sir Clive's hammer, there are other feelings that were born of your kindness." Heat rose to his cheeks as Lukas gave him an unusually warm smile. "And, if I may be so bold," he said, though his voice dropped to barely more than a whisper, "your beauty, as well."

Lukas laughed. "I don't think that's a word that has ever been applied to me before."

"I'm sorry, would you prefer another?" Forsyth asked, his hand coming up to his chest.

"No, it's alright. I will take it as the compliment you intended it to be." Lukas cocked his head slightly as he studied his companion. "You can be rather dashing at times, yourself."

"Th-thanks," Forsyth stammered, startled out of formality. "Ah," and he rubbed the back of his head, "since you brought it up, does that mean you've come to conclusions of your own?"

"I may have," Lukas said, his voice sounding almost teasing. "I would like to have a relationship with you," and he regretted opening with that at the look of excitement on the other's face, with the way he stood a little straighter, "however, there is something I must do first."

"That being?"

Lukas took a deep breath to ready himself. "I must confess my feelings to Sir Clive so that I may move past them."

"Oh," was all that the knight hopeful could manage.

"I also intend to return our watch shifts to the way they were before we started spending so much time together, as I shouldn't be allowing my feelings to make decisions in regard to the army for me."

"I understand," Forsyth said with a nod. "We will find time to spend together outside of our duties."

"In the meantime, we can take our relationship slowly. There are things that we will need to talk about when we are not on duty, but for now," he said, offering his hand, palm toward the other. When Forsyth pressed their palms flush, threading their fingers together, he continued; "I am content if you are."

"I am delighted," Forsyth declared. Lukas chuckled.

"Even better."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may have listened to "Three Small Words" by Josie and the Pussycats a few dozen times over the past few days and developed an idea for an AU in which Lukas, Forsyth, and Python are a popular LGBT boy band and Lukas has panic attacks after having to give so much of himself at every show as lead singer and his boyfriends need to pamper him and make him feel safe after each one... but nope. Not gonna happen. I refuse to write the first AU in this fandom.


	4. Chapter 4

As Tobin wandered in from watch, dreading returning to the larger tent he shared with at least a dozen other men laying cot to cot or even sharing them, lamenting the snoring he'd have to find sleep through, someone drew his attention.

"Tobi-poo!" Python called from the cluster of smaller tents set up by soldiers who were smart enough, or well-off enough, to have brought their own. The brunette made a small noise of annoyance at that particular pet name.

"I prefer Tobalicious," he said, turning his attention toward the other archer.

"Tobalicious it is," the older man offered along with a grin and a bottle. "'Mere," Python instructed, waving the other toward his tent. Tobin rolled his eyes, but went anyway with a fond scoff. "Lover Boy and Dreamy are out together, so I've got the tent - and all this booze - all to myself. Since I'm a kind individual, I thought I might share it with someone who is almost as talented and attractive as myself."

"Almost?" Tobin asked with a raised brow, crawling into the little lodgings.

"Yeah, almost," Python answered, tempted to smack the younger man's rump as he took to his hands and knees in search of a comfortable spot. "I know my effortless talent and good looks are neigh impossible for most people to achieve, but if you work at it, I think you'll get close eventually."

"You, suggesting someone work?" Tobin balked, a smile finding his face nonetheless.

"Hey, when other people work, I get nice things," Python supplied. "Now, sit your cute ass down before I slap it. Golly, it's like you want me to with how much you're wiggling it," he teased.

Tobin sat down so quickly, half of him was off of Forsyth's cot and Python snorted. The bluenette lay on his stomach, splaying himself over as much of both cots as he could and held a bottle out to Tobin.

"Man," Tobin groused, taking the bottle, "why do I hang out with you again?"

"Uh, because you have a bit of a thing for being picked on? And," he drew out the word, grinning up at the younger man, "because you like taking care of people. You can take care of me, Tobibaby." Tobin made an irritated noise in his throat as he put the bottle to his lips.

"That what you called me in here for?" the brunette asked, offering the other the drink. "You want a daddy?" Python snickered into the bend of his arm, holding the bottle up so it wouldn't spill.

"Did you just make a dirty joke?" he asked, tears building in his effort not to laugh.

"What?" Tobin gasped. "No! How was that a dirty joke?!" Python gave up on trying to reign in his laughter and slapped the mattress with his hand.

"Man, you're a bad gay, not knowing terms like 'daddy'," Python teased. His laughter finally cooled as he raised a brow in thought. "You are gay, aren't you?"

"I'm gonna need that bottle back if we're talking about this," Tobin moaned. "But yeah, I guess. Sometimes I think I like girls, but sometimes I think I only think I do because I'm supposed to feel that way."

"Would you fuck a girl?" Python asked, sitting up and crossing his legs so he could take a swig and not worry about spilling it.

"I dunno," Tobin answered honestly. "I really don't even know if I'd fuck a guy, even knowing I find some of them attractive." He expected Python to laugh, so he turned his gaze to their bags instead. However, the bluenette didn't laugh, rather he reached out and nudged Tobin's knee with the bottle, offering it back to Tobin.

"Ya ever seen a girl naked? Seen their, ya know, parts?"

"I have seven younger brothers and sisters," Tobin complained, taking a swig. "Of course I've seen a vagina." Python looked appalled and Tobin snickered. "Hey, you came from one."

"Doesn't mean I wanna go back in, or see siblings coming out of one. You poor thing, you," Python lamented, swiping their beverage back.

"So, you're gay?"

"Flaming," Python answered, lips around the mouth of the bottle. The brunette scoffed.

"You ever get shit for it?" he asked after a long moment.

"'Course," came the answer. "I had a bit of a bad reputation when I was younger. It kinda settled down when I got older, but because I was lazy and only into guys, some of the village elders were certain I was gonna grow up t' be a street walker."

"Uh- a prostitute?" Tobin asked, fumbling for the bottle when Python passed it.

"Yeah, that's what they called it," the older man answered. "But, whatever," Python said, splaying his hands. "That bad rep was what brought me an' Forsyth together, believe it or not."

"I don't," Tobin said, causing the other to laugh. He took a long pull of the ale before noting, "Forsyth doesn't seem like the type to hang out with questionable characters."

"Eh, he had an unfav'rable rep himself. He was known as a bit of a dunce, too lost to his silly little dreams. He would defend me from some of the older teenagers who thought they could motivate me with a good beat down, or something, and we just started hanging out." Python looked elsewhere and laughed when he realized Tobin was openly staring at him. "He protected me, even when I didn't want him to. It was, well, the sweetest anyone had ever been to me."

"That's... wow. I can see why you fell in love with him, then."

Python nearly purred when he spoke, "and, as we got older, he developed those muscles." The brunette blinked stupidly, holding the bottle to his firmly sealed lips. "Gods, I used to watch him train almost every day. Fuck, I would get so hard. Hell, I'd probably be hard right now if I hadn't been drinking before you showed up." The older man laughed, and Tobin wondered if he heard a hint of bitterness in the gesture.

"Well, I was gonna say it sounds like my feelings for Gray pale in comparison, but then you went and ruined it," Tobin tried to joke, tipping the bottle back again. Python rolled over on his stomach and looked at his companion, curling his arms to rest his head on.

"Eh," he started, "it's kinda dumb to compare one love to another. It's all the same shit, all that spirit stuff, swirlin' around in the ethos and makin' ya feel dizzy."

"Or maybe that's the liquor," Tobin quipped. Python laughed.

"Could be," he admitted. "Now, why don't you tell me what made you fall in love with your little stud."

Tobin gave a heavy sigh and held the bottle up, trying to look through it to see how much was left with little luck. He gave it a little shake to find there wasn't much left before he spoke, "I don't really know," he admitted. "Lately I've been starting to think that it might've been out of convenience, really. I mean-" he looked over at Python, who was listening in rapt fascination, "-that doesn't make my feelings any less _real_ , it's just that- he was the most attractive guy near my age who paid attention to me in our little village, and I couldn't help but fall. Hard. Flat on my face, like I'm prone to do." He sighed once more. "Do you mind if I finish this off?" It took Python a moment to respond.

"Dude, go ahead. I had a whole other bottle to myself already," he offered, splaying a hand in a gesture neither of them were sure what it was supposed to mean.

After finishing the ale, Tobin held on to the bottle, playing with it so he'd have something to do. "I feel kinda gross about it. I wonder if I'm acting like Faye does with Alm, and I- I kinda don't really want to spend as much time with Gray anymore. I can't complain about her behavior if I'm acting just like her."

"Eh, you're fine," Python soothed. "I don't think anyone really suspects that you're gay- or, into men, whatever. Pretty sure your stud is clueless."

"Good," Tobin said, finally putting the bottle down. He laid next to the other archer, on his stomach as well. "If he ever found out, I don't think I'd ever hear the end of it. At best, he'd make fun of me, at worst he'd start treating me like crap."

"Nah, Gray doesn't seem like that kind of guy," the bluenette comforted. "But, if ya wanna get over him, I could totally ruin him for ya."

"How would you do that?" Tobin asked, raising a brow.

"Point out something you like about him, and I'll tell ya how I'm better," the older man said with a smirk. Tobin made a playfully disgusted noise. "No, seriously. You like his muscles, right? Well, I've got some muscles of my own, but mine are leaner. I'm more flexible." Tobin mouthed 'oh my gods' and shook his head. "He's got nice hair, right? Mine's softer. Give it a feel," he offered.

"I'm not feeling your hair."

"C'mon, you know you wanna touch it. Put your hand in it. Fuck, give it a little tug, if ya want."

"Are you coming on to me?" Tobin asked, finally flinging his hand out, petting Python's locks just a little too roughly.

"Hell, if you're into me, sure."

"Well, you are kinda cute," the brunette said, his petting taking on a more gentle nature.

Python had briefly closed his eyes, but they shot open at being called 'cute.' "Cute?" he asked, wrinkling his nose. "Bleh, cute's for kids. I'm hot, thanks." Tobin snorted. "So," Python started, turning to face Tobin, nuzzling into his hand, "ya gonna fuck me?" The younger man pulled his hand back.

"We're- I'm- _you're_ not exactly sober, ya know," he sputtered, sitting up and drawing his knees up to his chest. Python managed to get part way up. He moved closer to Tobin, letting his chest press against one of Tobin's arms, slinging his own around the younger man.

"So?" he asked, lips brushing a heated cheek as he spoke. "I trust you." Tobin bit his lip at the admission. "C'mon," he prodded, taking Tobin's hand and moving it to his shoulder. "Let's feel good together. Let's forget about the shit that's bothering us."

"You're not even hard," Tobin noted when their shifting, laying down, caused his thigh to slip between the other archer's legs.

"Don' need to be hard to get off, baby," Python cooed, letting the younger man take control and loom over him. "Just need you," he said, reaching up with fingers clumsy with drink to push Tobin's bangs from his face. Tobin gave a small whine.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he'd regret it in the morning, but Python's uncharacteristic neediness sparked something in him that he didn't want to look too closely at, and he started unbuckling his overalls. The sound Python made when he brought their lips together only further cemented Tobin's surrender.

 

* * *

 

The following day, Lukas decided to slip his conversation with Clive into his daily duties. He would order his duties to take him from one end of camp to the other, stopping by when he was closer to finished, on the front end of camp where the older man would be wrapping up with tactical matters.

"Sir Clive," Lukas greeted, entering through the open flap of the tent the higher ranked members used as their tactical headquarters. "Have you a free moment?"

"Ah, Lukas, of course," Clive greeted, standing. He sat aside the notes he'd been pondering and motioned for Lukas to sit with him.

"I'm afraid I only have a moment myself and must run once I am finished. Forgive me for turning away your offer, but I wish to remain standing." Lukas folded his arms behind his back, putting on his usual reserved smile despite the way his heart thundered in his chest.

"Very well," Clive said, taking a seat once more. He crossed the ankle of one leg over the other knee before asking, "what is it you wish to speak with me about?"

"It appears that, over the course of our march, I have developed feelings of a romantic nature for someone amongst our ranks," Lukas started, a strange pain growing up his spine from his stomach. He felt vaguely nauseated when Clive's expression brightened. The older man stood once more.

"Congratulations, my friend! I'm delighted to hear that you've found someone," Clive said, splaying his hands. He moved to approach the younger man. Whether for a hug or a friendly pat, Lukas slyly ducked the affection, his smile still in place. "Well," Clive resumed, only a little put off from his touch being denied, "what is the lucky battle maiden's name?"

A startled little laugh came from Lukas, and he stood a little straighter. "I think I'd rather keep that to myself for the time being, sir. Ah, however, there is an obstacle in our path to a happy relationship, I am afraid." He brought his hand to his mouth briefly.

"What is it, Lukas? I'm so delighted to hear that you've developed those feelings. If you'll forgive me, my friend, I had started to grow concerned that you may not have had an interest in romantic matters. I will help in any way I can."

"Ah, sir, please try to reign in your enthusiasm. The obstacle is," and he almost lost his nerve, "you."

"Me? Lukas, have I done something to keep the two of you apart? If I've assigned you to different units, that is easily rectified-"

"No, sir," Lukas interrupted, closing his eyes. "What I mean to say is that I've feelings for you that I needed to confess so that I may move past them."

"I'm sorry?" Clive asked, holding his chin in his confusion.

"I fear I've fallen in love with you, sir," Lukas managed.

"Me?" Clive asked, his hands falling away from his face to hang limply at his sides. "Are you well, my friend?" he asked, taking a step toward the redhead, watching as the other tensed. "Have you hit your head?" Clive lifted a hand toward the younger man's forehead, drawing it back awkwardly when Lukas leaned back to get away from the touch. Clive frowned, drawing his brows together. "I don't understand," he said, taking a step away.

"Forgive me, sir. As you know, I am not a very openly emotional individual. It surprised me as much as it does you."

"Just," and Clive sighed, rubbing his fingers over his mouth before he continued, "how long have you felt this way?"

"Quite some time, I'm afraid. Many moons, at least." He looked to the exit of the tent longingly for a moment before turning his attention back to his superior officer. "But you are aware that I'm not the type to let sentiment take precedence over my duties."

"I am aware," Clive said, sounding something akin to irritated, though it was as mild as most of his tones. The sick feeling climbed up Lukas' throat at the sound of Clive sore with him, but thanked Mila that it wasn't open anger and swallowed the bile that rose to his throat. "This is a lot to take in," he said with a sigh.

"Forgive me, sir," Lukas said with a slight bow that only served to rile up his upset stomach. "I merely wished to clear the air and my conscience."

"I'm a little disappointed by this revelation, Lukas." The words felt like a physical blow, but Lukas kept his expression mild regardless. "Is it safe to assume this other person you've developed feelings for is a man as well?"

"Yes," Lukas breathed. Clive sighed once more.

"I had hoped to see your children grow up alongside mine, to learn the blade together and serve Zofia the way we do, but now," the older man splayed a hand, an almost lost expression on his face.

"There will be many children in need of a home after the war, sir," Lukas suggested.

"Yes, but, what of passing on your blood?"

"You've said it yourself that a man is more than his blood."

"I'm aware," Clive said again, his hand once more at his chin. He turned his back to Lukas as he ducked his head. "I've much to think about, Lukas. It... may be for the best if we were to spend a little time apart."

Though his throat burned with the effort, Lukas said, "I understand, sir. I'll show myself out." The younger man didn't see the worried look the blonde shot his way as he ducked to exit the tent.

Lukas longed to run to Forsyth, to press his head into the other's hand and be caressed until he could think of nothing other than the fingers in his hair. Instead, he kept his strides even and finished checking on everything he had intended to see to before going to the mess to grab something of a meal. He knew it would taste like bile, but he resolved himself to eat anyway, unaware of what he was even handed, muttering a quiet "thank you," to whoever had handed him the bowl. When he saw Forsyth and Python sitting together at the end of one long, improvised table, he decided to join them. Company would help him force down food, he assured himself.

"Hello," he greeted, his voice as even as always.

"Hey, stud," Python responded first, "sit your cute ass down. We were just talking about Forsyth's dear old dad."

"I would prefer to remain standing, but thank you for the offer, Python. Good afternoon, Forsyth," Lukas greeted, giving the other a slight nod. "You were discussing your father?"

"Not particularly," Forsyth corrected, reaching out to rest a hand on the armor about his significant other's hip armor. "We were more discussing a regimented lifestyle, but Python here kept bringing up how I always hated the one my father imposed upon me." Lukas could only hum in acknowledgement, managing a few bites of food, soothed by the hand about his hip. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, I am fine," Lukas offered, giving what he'd hoped was a reassuring smile. The way his lips pulled back from his teeth only caused more worry in the lancer. "I would like to speak with you later, however."

"I've time now," Forsyth offered, standing. "Python," he called.

"Eh?"

"Would it be alright if I took control of our lodgings for a bit?"

"No, Forsyth, don't put Python out," Lukas asked.

"Ah, don't worry about it. I was gonna go grab some more nuts before we left walnut country, anyway. Take the tent. Have fun," he lilted, getting to his feet, waving as he left his dishes behind.

"Wait, Python! Is that- is that some sort of slang?"

The bluenette's "ha!" rose above the chatter in the mess tent.

"Lukas, is something the matter?" Forsyth asked. Lukas gave a little shake of his head.

"This isn't a matter to be discussed in public. We should finish our food, then make for a more private venue."

"Uh, s-sure," Forsyth managed. Lukas gave another awkward smile that had the green haired man scarfing his food.

After they deposited their and Python's dishes in a bin for washing, they made their way toward Forsyth's tent. Lukas almost laughed at how he had to pick up the pace to keep up with the other, who seemed to be in quite a hurry.

Once inside, Forsyth shucked the gloves he'd neglected to take off when he'd removed his armor after training and took Lukas' face in his hands. With a breathy little "oh," Lukas melted into the touch, nearly losing his balance.

"What happened?" Forsyth asked, bringing their foreheads together. Lukas allowed himself to brace himself by resting his hands on the older man's shoulders, turning his face into one of the hands to rub his cheek and nose against the skin that was spattered with calluses.

"May we sit first?" Lukas asked.

"Right, of course. Sorry," Forsyth said, helping Lukas down to the cots. Lukas opened his mouth to tell the other that no apology was necessary, but the hand that wandered into his hair caused him instead to sigh. The knight hopeful had maneuvered Lukas into a position where his head was resting on a green-clad thigh before he knew what had happened. Concerned over how unusually compliant the other was, Forsyth prodded gently, "Lukas?"

"Oh," he answered with a little laugh, "forgive me. I appear to enjoy this form of caressing more than I suppose I should." He gave a happy little sound from his throat as Forsyth resumed running his fingers through reddish waves. "I spoke with Sir Clive." Forsyth's hand shook as he listened, but listen was all he did while Lukas recounted what happened.

"L-Lukas, gods," the older man breathed, his voice quaking. Lukas looked up at him from under his lashes. "That's dreadful. I didn't think Sir Clive would react like that. How can you be alright?"

"I'm... not," Lukas admitted, his shoulders finally sagging, his body relaxing into Forsyth's side, his petting. "But I expected as much. I'm a bit surprised I've yet to lose my position," he admitted, laughing quietly.

"How can you laugh at that? I- I'm crying, and it wasn't even me that had happened to," Forsyth said, wiping at his eyes with the back of his free hand. "How could Sir Clive be so cruel?"

"I don't think it's particularly cruel, since he hasn't demoted me. He simply has beliefs he learned in his youth and needs time to reconcile my feelings with them."

"That isn't his place, though," Forsyth breathed, sniffing loudly. "How can you not be crying right now? You loved the man, and the way he rebuffed you-" Lukas sighed softly, curling his hand up next to his face, settling further into the other's thigh.

"Perhaps I'm not capable of crying," he mused. "Or perhaps the tears won't come because I expected much worse than this. I did feel a bit like I might have lost my breakfast earlier, though. But it became bearable when I saw you in the mess."

"Lukas, gods," Forsyth whispered, tears pouring down his cheeks. The redhead's brows pinched together and he reached up to wipe away drops, only for them to be replaced seconds later.

"Please do not think ill of Sir Clive. I'm sure he will understand in time," Lukas soothed.

"I'm sorry," Forsyth managed between sobs.

"Shh," Lukas said, turning on his back so he could use both hands to brush the tears from the other's cheeks. "It's okay to cry," he said, unsure if he was saying it more to himself or Forsyth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All I've wanted to eat lately has been peanut M&Ms and green bean casserole. Men can only get pregnant in fanfiction, right? ...right?


	5. Chapter 5

Tobin didn't say anything when he laid in the grass next to Python. He snuggled up to the other without a word, back to the other archer's side. He sighed softly when the bluenette wrapped an arm around him loosely. He put his mouth against the older man's arm, eventually finding himself worrying the padded armor between his teeth absently.

"I wouldn't put your mouth on that," Python warned playfully, cracking an eye open. "You don't know where it's been." Tobin spat out the material and leaned his head back, resting it on a lean bicep. "What's eating you?"

"Did what we did mean anything to you?" Tobin asked, mouth dry. Python pulled his arm away so fast Tobin's head hit the dirt. He sat up and turned to look at the other, flinching back at the angry look on the other's face.

"What?" Python asked, "You think I just go around fucking random guys?"

"That's not what I meant at all," Tobin said, surprised at, and a little proud of, himself for keeping his voice even. Python cursed softly and brought a hand up to run his fingers through his hair.

"Shit, I know. Sorry," he mumbled. "It's just a bit of a sore spot."

"I know. You told me," the brunette said, finding a more comfortable way to sit. "What I meant was, would that have happened if we were sober?"

Python leaned back on his arms and observed Tobin as he thought about the question. "I dunno," he said. "Probably not. You're pretty shy sober."

"Well," Tobin said with a scoff, drawing one knee up to his chest. "Some people call it 'liquid courage'."

"That mean you're attracted to me?" Python asked, grinning. Tobin looked at his laced fingers on his knees rather than the other archer.

"Most people with eyes would be." Python's smile grew, but soon fell; "I just feel weird about my first time being with someone who doesn't love me."

"Eh, people put a lot of stock in their first time, but it's not that big of a deal. There'll come a day when you don't even remember yours." The brunette folded over himself, resting his chin on his knee with a little sigh.

"Did you forget yours?" Tobin asked in a small voice.

"Nah. Rough, desperate quickie in an empty barn with a closeted blonde beefcake," Python explained. The younger archer hummed in acknowledgement.

"Maybe I'm too young to be all hung up on love and all that junk," Tobin mumbled into his knee.

"Well, maybe not. Young men your age get married and start families and all that junk. But, maybe that's not necessarily love, huh?" Python looked up to the sky for a moment, thinking briefly that he should point out the gorgeous shades of pink and orange to the morose young man at his side. "I bet I could fall in love with you if I tried," the bluenette offered. Tobin turned his head to look at the other without bringing it up from his knee. He was met with a small smile.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, why not?" Python asked. "Wanna give it a shot? Worst case scenario, we stay friends, right?" He held out a hand. Tobin made an irritated noise, but smiled, placing his hand in Python's anyway.

"Why not," Tobin echoed.

"Hey," Python said after a moment. Tobin hummed a question. "Look up more," he said, pointing up at the sky with his free hand when the other raised a brow. The brunette lifted his head from his knee. Python felt a pang of something at the awed expression on the younger man's face at the smears of beautiful colors that streaked the sky. It may not have been love just yet, he thought, but it was something pleasant, like warm butterflies.

The two took a late meal together, but parted ways when someone managed to sucker Tobin into washing dishes. The bluenette wanted to put off returning to his tent, but figured he should get back and try to get a nap in before Forsyth woke him up and forced him to do something, or wanted the tent to have time alone with Lukas. As he walked, he thought that he might like to see Forsyth and Lukas together. He found them both attractive, and seeing the both of them cut loose and enjoy themselves would be good for the soul, he figured.

"Oh, my bad," he said upon realizing the tent was occupied. He hesitated a moment when he realized Lukas was asleep on Forsyth's cot and the knight wannabe was crying on his. "Forsyth?" he asked.

"Can you stay for a moment, Python?" Forsyth pleaded, his voice cracking.

"Yeah, sure," the bluenette said, letting the tent flap fall closed behind him. "What's going on?" he asked, crawling over to sit next his best friend.

"I feel like my entire world is falling apart around me," the green haired man admitted, digging the heel of one palm into an eye. "Gods," he breathed, taking a moment to calm himself down.

"Hey," Python tried to soothe, reaching out to pry Forsyth's bangs from his tear tracks. "Man, how long have you been crying?" The deep sadness he saw when forest green eyes turned toward him made Python draw in a sharp breath.

"I don't know," the lancer admitted. His lips trembled when he tried to hold them in a firm line, so he abandoned that for a moment. "It's not my place to tell you but, Mila forgive me, I need to talk to someone about this. Lukas told Sir Clive of his feelings for him."

"Oh, shit," the archer breathed, moving closer so he could wrap a comforting arm around his shaking shoulders. "What happened?"

"He told Lukas he doesn't want to see him for a while."

Python made a noise that sounded vaguely angered and tightened his grip on his friend. "Well, you know how those nobles are," he tried to comfort, "they're all expected to carry on the bloodline and all that bullshit." He kept his voice quiet, not wanting to wake Lukas.

"I know, but I expected Sir Clive to be different," Forsyth whispered. "I- I kind of expected him to be flattered that Lukas had fallen in love with him and turn him down gently. I thought he was," and he sputtered out a wet laugh, "special." The bluenette snorted.

"Hate to break it to ya, but the only 'special' noble you're ever gonna see is Lukas here," and he made a vague gesture. "He's the only one I've ever met that's down to earth, kind, and reasonable. I thought you two were an item," Python pondered aloud, "What happened to that?"

"I- we are," Forsyth said. "His confession to Sir Clive was so he could move past his feelings for the man for me. Gods, he got hurt for my sake, and here I am bawling like a child," the soldier said, turning to bury his red, tear-stained face in his friend's shoulder.

"I imagine it would suck to find out that your hero isn't as perfect as you thought he was," Python comforted, rubbing his hand up and down the shaking arm.

"'S that why you never had any?"

"Who says I don't have any, huh?" Python teased. "But that's not important right now. You don't need Sir Clive to see your dream of knighthood come true. Not any more. You should be looking to Alm and company."

"Sir Clive is part of that company," Forsyth lamented. The bluenette scoffed.

"Yeah, but the final decision wouldn't be his anymore. After this war is over, it'll be Alm's. Impress him, and it won't matter if you have four husbands, he'll knight you. Farm boy won't play favorites with the royal bloodlines."

"Husbands!" came Forsyth's shocked response. Python gave a cautious little laugh, and shortly a fond huff came from the green haired man under his arm. "I'd settle for one," the soldier whispered, looking briefly to Lukas. "But even that is neigh impossible. I wish I didn't want this. I wish I were normal," he lamented.

"Oh no you don't," Python warned, his grip tightening again. "If you were normal, you'd be following in your pops' footsteps, probably book keeping for a local bank or some shit right now. That doesn't sound like my best friend at all. Not to mention, I'd probably be dead if you weren't a knight at heart."

"Python," Forsyth muttered, embarrassed. He buried his face further into the padded cloth of the bluenette's shoulder.

"I mean it. If you were normal, I wouldn't have followed your dumb ass all the way out here, and I sure as hell wouldn't call you my best friend. Normal is boring, normal doesn't achieve your dreams. You're getting closer to yours each and every day because you're _not_ normal. You don't need Clive. You've got everything you need right here in this tent. Love, friendship, food, a weapon," Python trailed off, giving a loose shrug. "I mean, I guess if you wanna get knighted, you need Alm, too, but I don't think he'd fit in here with the rest of us already taking up all the space." Forsyth managed a laugh at the visual. "There ya go. Now, get some rest. Curl up with Lover Boy over there and comfort him when he wakes up. He's probably gonna need it 'cuz it usually takes time for things to actually sink in."

"Where are you going to go?" Forsyth asked, reluctantly pulling away from the other. He wiped the remaining moisture from his face and pushed his hair back.

"Honestly, I was thinking about takin' a nap in Lukas' tent. Insect netting, hello," he lilted. "D'ya think he'd mind?" Green eyes blinked.

"I haven't the faintest idea," Forsyth said.

"Ah, well. It's just a nap. It's not like I'm going through his personal effects, looking for blackmail material. I'm too lazy to try to blackmail someone."

"Well, if laziness keeps you from committing crimes, far be it from me," Forsyth said with a fond shake of his head.

When Python got up to leave, he stopped with his hand on the material of the tent and turned to Forsyth to say one last thing; "Hey, you two take care of each other, yeah? Because if I have to do it for you, you're going to carry me on the march while I sleep, got it?" He counted Forsyth's answering laugh as a victory and left the tent.

He stood and stretched, groaning as his back popped. He really did intend on taking a nap in Lukas' tent, but gave another groan as he realized he had something else to do first. He set off in the direction of the command center tent, sighing as he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fandom is giving me something of a crying fetish(?) The whole time I was writing the bit where Forsyth cries, I couldn't stop thinking about how pretty he'd be with tears pouring down his cheeks with his hair stuck in the tear tracks... Does that make me a terrible person?


	6. Chapter 6

"Hey, Clive," Python called, his hip cocked as he stood just inside the open flaps of the tactical tent.  
  
"Yes, Python?" the blonde asked, looking over with a few other curious gazes following.  
  
"Ya got a minute?"  
  
"Certainly," Clive said, sounding anything but certain. He stood, as did Alm and the other men gathered around the table. Men who's names Python never bothered learning and didn't care to start.  
  
"Alone, if you don't mind," the bluenette said casually. Clive looked to Alm and the others, giving them an awkward smile.  
  
"Don't worry about it," Alm said. "I was just thinking about how nice it would be to get something to eat, anyway. We'll reconvene in half an hour, yeah?" The others gave words of agreement and filed out the other end of the larger tent.  
  
"Now, Python, what is it?" Clive asked.  
  
"Ya know," the younger man started, scratching at the back of his head, "before we get started here, I need to say that I _really_ hate being the adult in these situations."  
  
"What situations, Python?" Clive asked, biting back a sigh.  
  
"Whatever happened between you and Lukas," Python supplied. Clive made a small sound of surprise, then furrowed his brows.  
  
"That is between Lukas and I, and only Lukas and I," Clive said, lifting his chin.  
  
"Yeah, well, it _would_ be if the way you feel about men who love other men didn't effect a good deal of this army."  
  
"I'm sorry?" Clive asked, honestly surprised. "Perhaps we should sit," he suggested. Python flopped down in a chair, splaying himself comfortably, while Clive sat stiffly. "I fear you've misunderstood, Python. I've no issue with men who love other men," he offered.  
  
"Well, that's good, because I'm as gay as the day is long, and I know I'm not the only one." Python rested his cheek on his knuckles. "Wish you'd've made that clear to Lukas, though."  
  
Clive sighed and took a moment to consider his words. "Perhaps I did not handle the situation as well as I should have," he admitted. "I'm not bothered by the fact that Lukas is gay-"  
  
"Lukas is not gay," Python interrupted.  
  
"P-pardon?"  
  
"He's not gay," Python said with an absent wave of his hand. "He would have fallen in love with you if you were a woman, or a dragon, or whatever. Same with his partner now. He likes personalities, not genitals." The bluenette stretched and yawned before he sitting back and waiting for a response.  
  
"B-be that as it may, you must understand that I was the slightest bit unnerved when he confessed feelings for _me_ ," Clive said. "Surely a discomfort of that nature is something you could understand. How would you feel if a woman confessed a love for you?" Python laughed, an easy grin stretching his lips.  
  
"You say that like it hasn't already happened." The younger man's grin faded to a small smile and his brows raised. "I tell them I'm flattered, but not interested. If they persist, I walk away. It ain't that hard. Besides, Lukas doesn't seem the type to pursue a lost cause anyway, especially not now that he's getting what he needs from someone else." Clive looked almost pained for a moment, turning his gaze away.  
  
He let his forearms come to rest on the table before he spoke, "I'd just taken so much comfort in thoughts of the future that I suppose I got hung up on them. Sometimes," and he closed his eyes, lacing his fingers together, "it's only the thought of the next generation that gets me through. It gave me a great deal of joy, despite our dire circumstances now, to imagine training my own children - little blondes with Mathilda's eyes - and Lukas' - redheads who smiled easily because they had a doting mother - in the art of the sword, watching them grow up happy alongside Alm's and even Clair's when she decides she is ready to be someone's wife." He gave a long sigh and opened his eyes, turning a weak smile at Python. "Ah, but that life probably isn't something you think of, is it? Forgive me."  
  
"It's not for everyone," Python agreed. "It's also not healthy to let fantasy consume you to the point where it interferes with reality. I like daydreaming as much as the next guy, but that's... dangerous."  
  
"I suppose you're right." Clive's shoulders sagged, his proud noble air retreating, unable to bear the heft of his guilt. "Had he confessed that he had feelings for any other man, I don't think I'd have reacted so poorly. I would have still been disappointed, but I wouldn't have been so unkind and sent him away as I did. I was just bothered by the fact that I was where his affections had focused. It seemed so strange that he'd developed those feelings. I'd never seen any indication that he had romantic feelings, much less for me. He never blushed, he never prostrated himself before me or went out of his way to see to my comfort. I had no clue. I suppose I was startled. I'd never garnered the attention of another man, at least, not to my knowledge." Clive brought his hand to his lips.  
  
"Please!" Python mock lamented. "You don't think Fernand ever fantasized about what your ass would look like while you're humping Mathilda? Tch."  
  
"I- ah- language, Python," Clive scolded, ears turning red. "Fernand?" he asked quietly.  
  
"That jackass was so hot for you, I'm surprised he didn't accidentally invent a new type of fire magic. But, that ain't really my business. I just came to talk about Lukas, and how I think you should make nice with him if you don't want to see a dip in troop morale."  
  
After a long moment, Clive nods more to himself than as a reassuring gesture. "I will, Python." He then turned to the archer. "This is surprisingly mature of you."  
  
"I know," the bluenette said, sitting up. "It feels gross. I think I'm gonna go wash off all this adulting with a bottle of ale. Whelp, see ya on the field."  
  
Clive gave a fond sigh and a shake of his head as he listened to the younger man leave.

 

* * *

  
  
Lukas woke wrapped in strong arms, a little shiver of pleasure racking his frame. He allowed his fingertips to ghost through the hair on Forsyth's forearms and gave a soft sigh. He took a few deep breaths, just enjoying the closeness and the ability to breathe.  
  
Eventually, however, the need to relieve his bladder roused him fully, calling him to rise. He pushed green locks out of his beloved's face, allowing his thumb to linger along a high cheekbone before he stepped away and out, heading from camp. An open crate of ale caught his eye and he considered it for a long moment, until his bodily needs screamed at him to move on and he swiped one bottle, carrying it with him as he left the clusters of tents behind.  
  
Once bodily functions were taken care of, Lukas pondered the bottle he'd snagged as he walked amongst the trees. He had seen many men of hearty and carefree natures cry into their cups, seen them lament troubles one wouldn't have known they'd had sober. He wanted to lament the breakdown of his longest standing friendship, but was concerned about how he'd behave inebriated. He'd never had more than a single glass of wine with dinner, or a flute or two of champagne when socializing at events. With a sigh, he pried the cork from the bottle, understanding why the ale had been so cheap when it came right out with little effort. He put the bottle to his lips and imagined being stripped of his rank.  
  
Halfway through the bottle, imagining painful experiences became a bit easier. He sat at the base of a tree to devote more energy to his ponderings. He picked at his chapped lips between sips and started to think he should stop drinking if he wanted to walk back to camp, but the warm feeling in his belly spread all the way to his tear ducts making him think a few more swigs might get him where he needed to be. He rubbed at the inner corner of his eye with one middle finger as he thought about missed opportunities in his youth, willing tears to come.  
  
"Lukas?" a small voice inquired. The redhead looked up, blinking in surprise. He stood, bracing himself on the tree.  
  
"Tobin, good afternoon," he greeted. "How does this day find you?"  
  
"Better than it finds you, apparently," Tobin said as he approached. He sat his bow and quiver aside, reaching for the bottle in Lukas' hand. "What is all this about?" he asked, watching the other's troubled expression as he relinquished the bottle.  
  
"Well, if you don't mind listening to me complain, I'm trying to cry," Lukas admitted.  
  
"You _want_ to cry?" Tobin balked.  
  
"Indeed," Lukas answered, laughing softly. "The last time I cried was seventeen years ago." Tobin scoffed.  
  
"Yeah, the last time I cried wasn't even seventeen _days_ ago."  
  
"You're yet young, Tobin," Lukas soothed. "Tears come easier the younger one is, it seems."  
  
"Why do you want to cry?" Tobin asked.  
  
"Because," and Lukas had to stop to figure out exactly why, "it is an important part of the grieving process, or so I've heard." He gave a little laugh, feeling his face heat. He briefly wondered if it had been warm the entire time and he was only then noticing it. He started to reach for his face to feel the heat on his fingers, but stopped the motion halfway through and folded his hands behind his back instead.  
  
"What are you grieving? Have you lost a friend? I- I'm sorry to pry, it's just... strange to see you like this," Tobin said, looking to their feet.  
  
"I haven't lost someone I consider a friend to combat in many months," Lukas answered. Tobin looked up then, cocking his head curiously. "Though I fear I may have ruined a friendship in an effort to move beyond some rather untoward feelings I had."  
  
"You? Having untoward feelings?" Tobin couldn't believe it. He almost smiled, but the way the redhead wouldn't meet his eyes had him concerned.  
  
"My, this ale is certainly loosening my lips. Thank you for taking the bottle from me. If I had continued to drink, who knows what nonsense I would be spewing right now."  
  
"Lukas," the brunette said to draw his attention, "what happened?"  
  
"I may have told Clive of my feelings for him and, in attempting a relationship with Forsyth, I fear I'm coming between two very close friends. Why, I can't seem to do anything right lately." His smile was awkward, chuckle even more so.  
  
"F-feelings for Clive?" Tobin startled. "Relationship with Forsyth? You- you're gay?"  
  
"Well, I-" Lukas started, stopping to think once more. "I'd never really considered putting a label on my- on who or what I'm attracted to."  
  
"He's not gay," Python said as he walked up, pushing a low branch out of his way. "There's a word for what he is, but I can't remember it since it doesn't apply to me," he said with a shrug. When he spied the bottle in Tobin's hand, he sidled up to the brunette. "Ooh, we drinkin'?" he asked as he took the ale.  
  
"Is the word you're looking for 'broken'?" Lukas asked, folding his hands in front of himself. Both Tobin and Python looked to the redhead, eyes wide, the bluenette pausing with the bottle to his lips.  
  
"Shit, Lukey-boy," Python breathed. "How much did you have to drink?"  
  
"Ah, how much remains in that bottle you're holding?"  
  
"Eh?" Python asked, holding it up. "About a third?"  
  
"Then two thirds of a bottle," the redhead answered. "I thought it would allow me to express myself a bit more, but I fear it's only made me chatty, and no more emotional."  
  
"You don't need to be emotional, Lukas," Python said after a long pull from the bottle.  
  
"You think so?" Lukas asked, raising his brows. Tobin raised his brows as well.  
  
"Nah, it ain't you. You don't need to change yourself for anyone else. One sec," the bluenette said, tipping the bottle back and chugging the rest. "Ahh," he breathed, then looked up at Lukas, offering a smile. "What's this about, huh? Forsyth? He's emotional enough for the two of ya."  
  
"Still, just once I would like to cry or scream, or be able to tell someone I love them and have them be able to believe me," Lukas said mildly. "I think I should be devastated, possibly having lost my best friend, yet I don't feel the need to cry. I am upset, yes, and yet," he trailed off, sighing.  
  
"Nah," Python said, waving a hand. "Get a new best friend. People wander in and out of your life all the time. You're bound to lose someone eventually. You're not weird for acknowledging that. Hell," he said, taking Tobin's hand and lacing their fingers together, "we could be your new best friends."  
  
"We could?" Tobin asked, letting the other hold his hand in his shock.  
  
"Why not? We've been here the longest," he said to Tobin, then turned his attention back to Lukas. "You're with my best friend, so it makes sense that we'd be close. I owe it to Forsyth to understand and accept that the two of you are together, anyway."  
  
"Do you disapprove of our relationship?" Lukas asked, blinking. He braced himself on the tree behind him.  
  
"Nah," Python said with something akin to a smile, tinted with sadness. "Well, fuck, I've been being the adult all day, so I may as well round out the evening and use up all my adult points." He laughed a little, tightening his grip on Tobin's fingers. "I was in love with Forsyth for a while, so I was a little jealous at first."  
  
"Was?" both Tobin and Lukas asked.  
  
"Yeah, I'm moving on," the older archer said, tugging on Tobin's hand to pull him into his side. "Besides, you two are good for each other. He needs your calming aura and you need his passion."  
  
"Thank you, Python," Lukas marveled, his shoulders drawing up the slightest bit. Tobin braced himself on the older man, his face turning red.  
  
"Not to mention you make a hot couple."  
  
"Hot... couple?" Lukas asked.  
  
"Yeah, Forsyth's all muscular and bold, like one of those guys on the covers of trashy romance novels, and you're a sweet, innocent, ginger stud who is still capable of kicking an ass or two if he needs to, and you've got the body to prove it," Python nearly growled. "What I wouldn't give to see the two of you wrapped up in each other, and _only_ each other."  
  
"And," Tobin drew out the word, "he ruins the moment," the brunette complained, though he laughed. Lukas laughed as well.  
  
"Well, I hope you have a decent imagination, then," he joked.  
  
"Hey, if you're in _my_ tent, and I walk in on the two of you... It ain't my fault," Python warned. Lukas continued to laugh. "But, hey, maybe we should go back to camp, eh? Isn't it getting close to your bed time, Lukey-boy?" Lukas frowned briefly, but relented to following a snickering Python and a blushing Tobin.  
  
"Alright, get in there and snuggle my best friend," Python ordered, pointing at his tent.  
  
"Could you keep your voice down, please?" Lukas nearly hissed, the bridge of his nose glowing with red.  
  
"Not if it turns your face that pretty color," the bluenette teased. Lukas gave a half roll of his eyes and ducked to enter the tent when the older man held the flap open. "Have fun, you two. I'm going to take Tobin with me to get some more nuts before we get too far north to find these particular trees."  
  
"You are?" Tobin asked, crossing his arms. "Who said I'm going with you?" he asked, trying not to smirk, failing.  
  
"That little smile," Python said, reaching out to stroke a thumb over lips that went slack at the touch. "Now come on, Tobalicious."

 

* * *

  
  
"Hey," Forsyth greeted when Lukas crawled over top him. "Where'd you go?" he asked blearily, reaching up to wrap his arms around the younger man's neck. Lukas then realized just how muscular the other's arms were, burring his face in the bend of one, nuzzling the forearm with his cheek.  
  
"I went to have a drink. I thought I would cry if I did," Lukas readily admitted. Forsyth's eyes became a little more focused, then his brows drew up in a sad expression. When he opened his mouth, Lukas brought his fingers up, pressing two to the other's lips. "Hush," he said softly. "Can you do me a favor?" he asked, voice low and quiet.  
  
"Anything," Forsyth managed when the other took his fingers away.  
  
"Python is out with Tobin collecting walnuts. Could you please go talk to him? I think the two of you need to clear the air between you."  
  
"You do?"  
  
"Yes," Lukas said with a deep nod. "Then, if you feel up to it, I'd really like for you to come back here and kiss me."


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Porn happened. (Sorry?)

Forsyth found Python and Tobin struggling to break open the shells of nuts they'd removed from their fruits, small cloth bags at their sides and a pile of fruits between them. They were chatting and laughing, and didn't notice his approach.

"Put that on the ground and move your hand," he instructed, earning himself a startled look from both archers. Python's face split in a grin, then his expression faded to a curious look. He sat back and let Forsyth crush the nut under his boot's heel, then asked, as he picked the meat of the nuts from the shattered shell;

"What're you doing out here instead of snuggling Lukas?" Tobin tried not to snicker at Python's teasing and failed. Forsyth looked away and scratched his nose nervously.

"Well, Lukas suggested I come talk to you. He said we should clear the air between us." Forsyth sighed. "I wasn't aware there was any air that needed cleaning." Python sighed and wiped off his hands on his slacks.

He stood as he spoke; "There isn't, but I know what he thinks I should say." Python put a hand in his hair, running his fingers through it. Tobin stood quickly.

"I'll give you guys a minute alone," he offered, making himself scarce before the bluenette could even tell him he didn't mind him staying. Python gave another sigh when he lost sight of Tobin, then turned his attention to Forsyth.

"Python?" Forsyth asked, "Why do you look like you're about to give me bad news?"

"Do I?" the archer asked with a little laugh. "Nah, not bad. Just awkward. Ya see, a long time ago, I fell in love with you." Forsyth's eyes widened, his lips falling slack in shock. "Man, I need a painting of your face right now." Python snickered.

"Is- this a joke?" Forsyth asked, voice quiet, hand curled up by his chest. The bluenette gave a doleful smile.

"Nope," Python said.

"Why didn't you say anything? Python, I was clueless!" Forsyth took a step forward, splaying his free hand.

"You've always been clueless. Hell, you're still clueless. It's part of your charm." Python put his hands on his hips. "I just knew nothing would ever come of it, and I didn't want to make things awkward."

"That's," and the lancer trailed off for a moment, looking down at their feet, "surprisingly noble of you, Python."

"Noble? Ha! Please, it was just as much for me as it was for you. I don't have a noble bone in my body. Hm, and now that you've got Lukas, I probably never will," he said with a wink. Forsyth brought his hands up to his face, groaning at the other's joke. Python smirked even though the other couldn't see it. "So, is the air cleared?" The soldier took his hands from his face and took a long look at Python. "So," the bluenette drew out the word, "is that a 'yes'?"

Forsyth sighed. "Let me say something, then I think it will be." The green haired man closed his eyes for a moment, looking for the words. "There was a time when I had feelings for you, as well, but you didn't really seem inclined toward romance at the time. Had I known, maybe things would be different, but," he took a deep breath and opened his eyes, turning glistening forest greens at Python, "if I may be honest, I'm glad things turned out the way they did. You're my best friend, and I wouldn't want anything to ruin that."

"Aw, ya big sap, c'mere," Python said, throwing an arm around Forsyth's shoulders. "Ain't nothin' ever gonna ruin our friendship, you hear?" He brought his other hand up to ruffle sleep-tousled green locks the other hadn't bothered to right before heading off in search of him. "You and me? Partners in crime 'til the end of our days. Heck, when we're sixty, I'll still be runnin' around, causing trouble and you'll be chasing after me, screaming my name and calling me a nuisance." Forsyth laughed.

"I don't doubt it," he said, shaking his head. "I'd prefer the term 'brothers in arms,' myself."

"Bleh, you would turn our friendship into some sort of dutiful thing," the bluenette complained playfully. "Alright, alright," Python said finally, taking his arm from around the other, "I need to find Tobalicious and you should probably get back to ol' Lukas."

"Python," Forsyth called, the other turning to look at him.

"Yeah?"

"Are you and Tobin, ah, an item?"

"Heh. I guess you could put it that way." A grin split Python's lips, one that usually meant he was thinking of causing trouble. "Call us," he gave a dramatic pause, "Tobithon."

"I will do no such thing," Forsyth promised cheerfully. Both laughed. "I'm happy for you, Python," he said, reaching out to gently pat the other's elbow.

"You too, eh? Really scored a looker," and he whistled.

"And a kind heart," Forsyth added, hiding his embarrassment in his fist that he brought to his face. "Even if he isn't all that expressive."

"Hey, you emote enough for the both of ya," Python soothed.

"I suppose," Forsyth gave with a sigh through his nose. "Perhaps I will have to be a bit more forward, more, ah, expressive. In order to help him from his shell."

"Gods, no," Python groaned. "You're both fine how you are. I don't think I could handle you being any louder or more passionate. Yikes."

Forsyth laughed. "I thought my passion was what drew you to me in the first place!" he declared, his usual volume and intonation back.

"If you recall correctly, you imposed your friendship on me to begin with!"

"Do not deny the allure of my knightly ways, Python!"

"Ye're real classy, Sir Forsyth," the bluenette said, less than enthusiastically. Forsyth chuckled warmly.

"He seems down to earth," he said, "Tobin will be good for you."

"Hey," Python barked. "We haven't been together that long. Don't go ruining him for me already."

"What? I merely said-"

"I know what you said! Now get out of here before I lose my lunch," he shooed. "Tell Lukas I'm taking his tent tonight."

 

* * *

 

"There you are," Python said, hauling himself up into the tree next to Tobin. He slid in behind the brunette, finding a comfortable position amongst the branches, wrapping the arm he wasn't using to hold himself up around the the other's middle.

"Hey," Tobin greeted, leaning back against the bluenette. "Do you ever," he hesitated a moment, "get childish urges?"

"All the time. Something wrong?" Python asked, pushing the collar of Tobin's shirt aside with his cheek so he could kiss the slender neck. Tobin gasped.

"No," Tobin breathed, turning his head to give the other more access. It was readily, greedily taken. Tobin's voice shook as he spoke, "Sometimes I- I just get this urge to climb trees."

"Then climb trees," Python said like it was nothing. "What's stopping you?" the older man asked, bringing the hand he'd been petting Tobin's stomach with up to fondle one of the buckles of his overalls.

"Well, right now it's your mouth," Tobin joked. He tried to laugh, but it became garbled when clever fingers slipped under the rough fabric to pinch a stiffening nipple through his shirt. "Python," he whined.

"Yeah, say my name," the bluenette breathed, lips brushing the fine hairs at the back of Tobin's neck as he moved up to suck a mark behind the younger man's ear. "Mm, but if you want to climb trees, just climb trees. It doesn't hurt anyone." Tobin made a non-committal noise, carefully reaching a hand back to card his fingers in blue locks. "Knew you'd come around to lovin' my hair, babe."

"Shut up," Tobin whined. He gave a pleased sigh when he felt Python grin against his ear. When the older archer playfully bit the shell of his ear, Tobin fisted his hand in the other's hair, pulled when Python moaned. Tobin cursed under his breath.

"Wanna go make a mess of Lukas' tent?" Python asked, and Tobin groaned through clenched teeth. He felt dizzy, his whole body trembling, held up, too far up for that kind of activity, only by one hand on a thick branch and one knee in the split between two limbs, back pressed against a warm, lean body behind his. A body that was just as precariously perched.

"No," he said simply, breathlessly.

"Then what do you want to do, huh?"

"I want to," Tobin stopped to swallow thickly, to run his fingers through Python's hair a couple times. To cup the back of the other's head and crane his neck so their lips could brush when he spoke, when Python made a breathy sound, "I want to climb this tree and kiss you."

After a thorough tongue-fucking that had Python moaning, Tobin pulled away, the bluenette chasing his lips as long as he could. When he opened his eyes, he was greeted with the sight of a perky rear as the younger man climbed higher into the tree. Tobin's delighted laughter at Python's whine lit a fire in the older archer, and he gave chase.

Eventually Tobin grew tired of staying just out of reach and moved for the lowest branch, dropping to the ground. Python was close behind, taking hold of the younger man as soon as he was on his feet. He crowded the shorter man against the trunk of the tree and buried his face in the slender neck once more. "Got you now," he husked.

"Y-yeah, you do," Tobin answered. "What're you going to do to me?" he asked, a salacious lilt to his voice.

"I'm gonna take these damned overalls offa ya and blow your mind," Python growled, fingers quickly getting one buckle open, then the other, Tobin's hands seeking purchase on the older man's arm and shoulder as he did so.

"Right here, out in the open?" the younger of the two asked, making no move to stop the other. Rather, he fumbled for the snaps that held the other's padded shirt closed.

"Yeah," Python whispered against a smooth cheek. "Eager, baby?" he asked as his armor came off, pulling his chain shirt over his head.

"It's your bare ass people will see," and the thought gave Python a little thrill. He pressed himself closer to the younger man, shoving his hands down Tobin's overalls to get them off. "How're we gonna do this?" Tobin asked, nails cutting little crescents in Python's shoulders as the older man kneaded him through his smallclothes.

"Same as last time, I figured. Unless you wanted to try something new."

"Same is fine," Tobin bit out, his hips thrusting toward the rough touch. "I meant, how, with no oil?"

"Spit works in a pinch," Python said, taking a knee.

"Wha- h- OK," was all Tobin could manage, threading trembling, anxious fingers in blue waves as the older man took his length in his mouth, having pulled him from his smallclothes before the brunette could even whine. "Python," he breathed reverently, pushing forward into the all too-willing mouth, torn between caressing and yanking on the other's hair. He settled on just resting his hands, letting them mold to the shape of his lover's head while he bobbed and pressed his tongue along the underside of Tobin's aching desire. "Y-yeah, hey, not gonna last long if you keep that up." He groaned at the wet pop when Python pulled back, jerked his hips in vain.

"Gotta get you good 'n' wet, babe," the bluenette explained before diving in again. Tobin had to bring a hand to his mouth, had to bite the knuckle of his first finger to keep from crying out. "Gods," Python rasped when he released the other. "Come down here," he asked, rising to a crouch to get his pants down to his knees.

Tobin went, sitting carefully. He quickly found that he didn't mind the scratch of grass and roots when he found his lap full of horny bluenette. "Don't hurt yourself," he begged when Python reached between them to grab Tobin. The older man grinned when Tobin bit his lip, unable to see much with Python's slacks in the way.

"Just gotta work it in," Python started, pausing to drink in the sounds Tobin made while he wriggled around, massaging the tightly coiled muscle with the head of Tobin's prick until it gave and slid in an inch. "Nice and slow," he finally finished, lifting his arms to cling to Tobin's neck as he rocked himself down. "Oh, yeah," he breathed once he was fully seated. He admired the nearly pained look on Tobin's face, used his thumb to pry the lower lip Tobin had been worrying from his teeth's grip. "Told ya I'm flexible," he purred.

Tobin whined, trying to wrap his fingers around the older man's tense thighs, unable to stop himself from moving the slightest bit. "Python," he gasped.

"Love it when you say my name," Python growled, hands holding tight to Tobin's still clothed shoulders so he could bounce. Tobin whispered his name like a prayer, over and over as the older man moved, meeting the other's jerky little thrusts. "Feels good," he promised, leaning forward to take Tobin's mouth in a wet, filthy kiss, leaving both of their chins a little more than moist when he pulled back to breathe out a call of, "Tobin, fuck." He gave a weak little laugh. "Gettin' close," he warned and brought a hand between them to quicken the process.

"Same," was all Tobin could say, holding desperately to hard thighs, reaching inward to feel the faint dusting of soft blue hairs. "Gods, I can't- _Oh_ ," Tobin gasped, shutting his eyes against the sight of Python lost in rapture, fighting the feeling of white hot bliss licking up his spine. A quiet "ah" was the only sound he made as he came, drowned out by Python's gasping, by the sounds of their skin slapping together.

"Well, fuck," Python said when he finally settled, could breathe again, both arms wrapped around Tobin's neck, his head resting against the younger man's collar bone.

"Yeah," Tobin agreed, finally able to numbly return the embrace.

After a minute, he chuckled. Python huffed out a soft laugh through his nose, and soon the two were laughing heartily, kissing, groaning when they pried themselves apart to make themselves at least somewhat decent. They shared soft kisses for a few more minutes, having to brace one another more than once because neither had legs that seemed to want to work.

"I don't wanna go to bed alone after that," Python admitted.

"You think I wanna go back to my bunk with a dozen other guys?" Tobin lamented, though he smiled.

"Come with me. We'll curl up in Lukas' tent, eh? Live in the lap of luxury, well, comparatively," Python said with an arched brow.

"You know we can't. He'll have a cow," Tobin said with a chuckle. "We'll just have to kick them out of your tent next time."

"Yeah," Python agreed, leaning most of his weight on the shorter man. "Sounds good to me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Story time with JOLT bay-bay.
> 
> As I'm editing this, I'm given a little red line under the word "fisted," which causes me to raise my voice a bit and say, "fisted is too a word!" to which my boyfriend looks over at me and raises a brow. "I swear," I said, "there is no fisting involved." He hummed as if he didn't believe me.


	8. Chapter 8

"Forsyth," Lukas breathed when a warm body blanketed his. He wrapped bare arms around the quietly sighing older man, turning on his side when Forsyth laid down, pulling him close. "Are you well?"

"Yes," Forsyth answered, and Lukas could feel a smile against his cheek. "Shall we light a lantern?" he asked, one hand wandering Lukas' tank top clad side tenderly, touch light enough not to slide the material as he explored the slight curve. Lukas made a noise signaling a negative, his lips parting in a silent sigh when the hand of the arm Forsyth was supporting himself with moved to cup Lukas' head, to stroke his hair.

"Can we just have this for a moment?" the younger man asked, pushing his head into the petting. He ran his own fingers through Forsyth's hair, urging him closer.

"Of course," Forsyth answered, sliding down the thin mattress to press their foreheads together, their knees bumping. Lukas couldn't help the pleased noise he made at both of Forsyth's hands in his hair, bringing his own to the other's chest.

"How did your conversation with Python go?" Lukas asked, his voice more airy than the older man had ever heard it.

"It went well," Forsyth answered, gently drawing his nails over the other's scalp. "I'm glad you had me talk to him. I hadn't known our friendship was under such stress." Lukas lifted his head and his nose brushed the older man's.

"So he told you how he felt?"

"He did," Forsyth answered. Lukas shivered at the feeling of the knight hopeful's breath ghosting over his lips. "I am relieved to say that our friendship has come out stronger on the other side of this." The redhead gave a nervous little chuckle from his throat, fingers briefly twisting in the other's padded shirt.

"May I be candid for a moment?" Lukas asked, tracing the line of snaps that held Forsyth's short sleeved shirt closed.

"I would hope you're always honest with me," Forsyth said with a little laugh, turning slightly to brush his lips against Lukas' cheek, earning himself a soft sigh.

"I had feared that you may have favored the safety of a relationship with someone you'd known for many years over one with, well," and he turned his gaze down, resting his forehead against Forsyth's chin, "someone who isn't exactly the picture of health."

"Lukas," the older man started, easing the redhead back just a bit to try to gain a glimpse of his face in the low light. "Are you unwell? You seem in fine form to me."

"Physically, I am fine," Lukas said, keeping his gaze lowered, "though my thoughts are sometimes troubling, and it often troubles others how easily I dismiss those thoughts. I have so few passions that I fear people may think something is wrong with me. I occasionally worry that our relationship may become a hurdle to achieving your dream." Lukas made a noise in his throat when Forsyth sat up, wrapping an arm around him to bring him to a seated position as well. The knight hopeful brought their foreheads together again, taking hold of the hand Lukas wasn't using to support himself.

"Forgive me if what I'm about to say sounds impolite," he asked, giving the fingers in his grasp a little squeeze. He took a moment to gather his thoughts, just breathing. "Perhaps the way your mind works is abnormal," he started, moving just a little closer, "perhaps other people may find it concerning. I may even find it strange on occasion," he said with a hint of shame. "If you find that these thoughts are things you wish to address, if you wish to amend your behavior, I will be here for you. But I will never ask you to change or push a change on you without your explicit permission." He brought his other hand up to Lukas' cheek, finding the man trembling almost imperceptibly. "What people may think of our love matters not," he assured the younger man. "It is my hard work that will lead to my knighthood, guided by your level head." Lukas let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and laughed softly. "I love you, Lukas. Dearly and truly." Lukas pulled their clasped hands to his chest.

"Would you believe me if I said I love you, as well?" He could feel Forsyth's smile and closed his eyes.

"I would," the green haired man declared. "May I kiss you now?"

"Please," Lukas whispered, a tinge of desperation making his voice quake.

The war was coming to a crescendo, battles growing more fierce as the days grew on, but when their lips met, the world outside their embrace ceased to exist for either man. For a long moment Lukas couldn't breathe, but found that he didn't mind the dizzy feeling that consumed him. When they parted for breath, he wanted nothing more than to take those lips again, giving a surprised noise when Forsyth brought them to the mattress. He laid over the younger man, boxing him in and bringing their lips together again.

"Just so you know," Lukas managed, winding his arms around Forsyth's neck once more, "I've never-" he cut himself off with a weak shrug and a slight frown.

"Nor have I," Forsyth admitted, chuckling softly. He kissed away Lukas' troubled expression, not relenting until brown eyes fluttered closed and brows relaxed. He kissed the younger man until fingers threaded in his hair and quiet sounds of pleasure escaped thin, but soft lips. When he finally relented, earning himself a near-whine, Forsyth said, "and we won't tonight. Not here. I want to give you everything you need, and I can't do that here. I wish to hear your voice, want to hear you cry out when I do something that makes you feel good, and I've the feeling that you won't allow yourself that luxury when we're so close to others." His voice took on a teasing lilt at the end. Lukas gave a sigh that sounded equal parts relieved and disappointed.

"Yes," he said, "you're right. We can still kiss and embrace for a while, can we not?"

"All night, if you so desire," Forsyth promised, pushing Lukas' hair from his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive the shortness of the chapter. I had originally intended for them to do the do, but found it much sweeter and more impactful this way.


	9. Chapter 9

Another battle won, another sight of the enemy's tail tucked between their legs as they run for cover, another hundred wounds to heal and just as many tents to set up finds everyone exhausted. Lukas and Forsyth bring the tactical tent up and it's seating arrangements in with Alm and Faye's help, and Clive unpacks their maps and documents. Forsyth runs off to help raise the mess tent and, as Lukas was about to join them, he found a hand encased in blue leather on his arm. He turned a startled look up at Clive and received an almost sheepish smile in return.

"When you have a moment," the older man said, "I would like to speak with you."

"Of course, sir," Lukas said with a nod, relieved to find his heart not jumping to his throat. "After all the major tents have risen, and I've made sure enough supplies have been brought in to start a meal, I shall have a moment. Would this be acceptable?"

"Yes. Take your time, Lukas," Clive said mildly. "I will most likely be in tactical. Come find me when you have the time to spare."

"Sir," he said, nodding once more before briskly making his way to his next task.

 

* * *

 

An hour later, camp was running smoothly enough that Lukas felt he could leave tasks in the hands of others and quickly made his way to the tactical tent. "Forgive my disheveled appearance, sir," he said upon entering, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of one arm. "I fear we're a bit short handed with all the injuries sustained in the last battle."

"It's alright, Lukas," Clive said, standing. "Please, come sit. You look terribly exhausted. Have a glass of this cold tea," he suggested, motioning to a frosted pitcher on the table. "Faye introduced me to it and I've found it quite refreshing." He poured a glass for the other, sitting it in front of an empty chair before he topped off his own glass and sat back down.

"Thank you, sir," Lukas said, sitting stiffly. He picked up the glass and took a small sip. Clive chuckled warmly at the way the younger man's eyes widened ever so slightly. "That is refreshing," Lukas admitted. "How are you keeping it cold? We've no ice boxes that I'm aware of."

"Ah, yes," Clive said, "It appears that the young miss Faye has decided she is more than just a lance in a sea of lances and has taken up the study of magic. I've only read about cold magic before she showed us this treat." Lukas gave a small smile at the thought, turning his gaze toward the table. "Since I'm certain you want to get away from me as soon as you possibly can, I should tell you why I asked to speak with you," the blonde said, his cheer fading somewhat.

"Sir?" Lukas asked, lifting his gaze, but not quite able to make Clive's. Instead, he looked over the top of the other's ear in an effort to appear as though he was making eye contact.

"I wanted to apologize," the older man started. "I was rude to you the last time I spoke. If you would allow me a chance to explain why I reacted the way I did, I would greatly appreciate it."

"Oh," Lukas managed, "of course, sir."

"We're beyond formalities, Lukas," Clive said. His shoulders slumped the slightest bit as he continued; "or, at least I had hoped we were, but I suppose I went and ruined that, didn't I? Well, I suppose I should get on fixing that." He closed his eyes for a moment. "I reacted poorly in my surprise, Lukas. I bear you no ill will, and I hope you and your partner have many happy years together." Clive sighed, opening his eyes to look at the other. "I had spent so much time lost in daydreams that I had come to think of them as reality, and became... cruel when forced to see that the things I had thought about weren't real."

"Sir?" Lukas asked, the sweat on the glass running over his fingers. Clive gave a little shake of his head.

"It's unimportant," he said. "You had mentioned adopting children after the war?" Lukas took another sip of tea to buy himself a moment.

"Everyone will have to pitch in to pick up the pieces," he explained, "if I am needed to help raise children, then that is what I shall do."

"You'd be a good father, Lukas. Level-headed and kind," Clive said with a small laugh, "or would you be the mother? I guess that all depends on who your partner is, doesn't it?" Lukas sputtered into his tea and a grin split Clive's features. He laughed heartily then, watching the mild embarrassment rise to Lukas' face.

"Considering we are both men, I don't think either of us would be the mother," Lukas said, frowning slightly at his glass. Clive laughed once more.

"I was just joking, my friend." He gave a small sigh. "I hope some day you will introduce me to your partner," the older man admitted.

"Some day," Lukas promised, his frown fading to a mild smile.

"Well, I suppose you'll want to get back to work, since you tend to work yourself to the bone. Take it easy tonight, Lukas. We've had a long last few weeks."

"I will," the younger man offered, setting his glass on the table as he stood. "Thank you for the beverage."

"Any time," Clive said, making a gesture that indicated the other was dismissed. "In fact," he said, making Lukas pause in the entrance, "we should have a drink together more often, Lukas. I still consider you one of my closest friends, and I hope to gain back your confidence one day." Lukas turned only to offer a small smile.

"Of course," he said and gave a slight bow before he left.

 

* * *

 

Lukas found Forsyth as the green haired man was entering the weapons storage tent with an armful of lances and followed him in.

"Have you a moment?" the redhead asked, folding his hands behind his back.

"Lukas," Forsyth answered happily, laying the weapons in a loose row across a spare spot of earth. "For you, always," he said with a smile. Lukas returned the gesture, stepping into Forsyth's personal space, though he kept his hands folded behind his back.

"I've had a moment to cool down," the younger man started, "may I have your arms around me?"

"If you don't mind my smell," Forsyth teased, lifting his arms in to wrap them around Lukas' shoulders. Lukas immediately buried his face in the other's neck, but waited a beat before returning the embrace, his arms around the thicker man's middle.

"You smell like hard work," Lukas said, unable to keep a small smile from his lips. "It is a smell I can't help but admire." Forsyth chuckled softly, turning to kiss the younger man's cheek. He held the redhead for a couple minutes, simply enjoying their closeness. When the knight hopeful felt moisture on his neck, he pulled back, taking Lukas by the shoulders.

"Lukas," he breathed in wonder, "you're crying." Lukas blinked in surprise, raising a hand to his cheek. He looked at the moisture on his fingertips and his slack jawed expression grew into a small smile. "Lukas," Forsyth said again, resting his hands on the other's hips.

"I am relieved," the younger man explained. He curled his hand into a fist at his chest. "Sir Clive apologized to me, and having your arms around me feels more like home than any I've ever had." Forsyth pulled the younger man close again, wrapping his arms around him to rub what he could of the other's back. "May I make a confession?"

"As you need to," Forsyth permitted.

"When you had cried before, after I first confessed to Sir Clive, I had considered dipping my fingers in your tears and smearing them across my face so that could see what it felt like," Lukas said, closing his eyes. "It is a little shameful," he said, a wavering smile on his lips.

"No," Forsyth said with a shake of his head. He reached up to cup Lukas' jaw, thumbing away the tears. "You didn't think you could cry. It's not shameful to want to know what something feels like." His own eyes watered with happy tears that remained unshed. In under a minute, Lukas' face dried, yet the older man continued to stroke his cheekbones tenderly.

"It has stopped," Lukas said with a slight laugh. "I fear I'm so happy I am still able to cry that I've stopped crying." Forsyth huffed out a laugh of his own, drawing Lukas to him for a warm kiss.

"There will be other opportunities," Forsyth promised.

 

* * *

 

"Hey." The voice caused Tobin to look up from where he'd been elbow deep in dish water.

"Oh, Gray," he said.

"Think you could cut out for a minute?" Gray asked, hooking his thumb over his shoulder. "I need to talk to you."

"Uh, sure," Tobin managed, shaking the water from his hands. The two left the tent, Tobin holding out his hands so they could dry. "What's up, man?"

"We haven't really been hanging out lately, and I kinda miss my best friend," Gray said, shrugging loosely. After a second, he brought his hand up to his head and thrust his fingers into his hair. "And," he drew out the word, "Kliff might have told me something interesting."

"Oh no," Tobin breathed.

"Yeah," Gray said, his tone a little awkward. "So," and he kicked at the dirt, "why didn't you say anything?"

"Well," Tobin huffed, "you like girls, so," he trailed off, taking his turn at shrugging.

"Yeah, but, I would've been flattered, ya know? Having the ability to capture the hearts of women _and_ men? That's an ego booster."

"Like you need a bigger ego," Tobin complained, huffing fondly.

"My ego is appropriately sized for my awesomeness," Gray said, bringing up an arm to flex. His arm then fell to his side. He raised a brow and moved his hands to his hips. "I had to find out you're seeing Python from Kliff. I'm kinda," he trailed off, looking away, "hurt. Ya know, that my best friend couldn't tell me these kinds of things."

"I didn't want to cause any shit," Tobin said, hooking his hands in the flap of his overalls. "I didn't want you to think I was being weird with you."

"Well," and Gray splayed a hand, "you were being kinda weird by not talking to me. But, it kinda makes sense that Clair likes me more, since you were flirting with me the whole time instead of her," he teased.

"I wasn't- man," the younger man groaned.

"Yeah, unfortunately I'm gonna have to turn you down, Tobi-poo," Gray lilted, grinning.

"You don't- Ugh, Gray, I'm not still- I _know_. You don't have to say it like that. Besides, I'm with Python, anyway." He looked away, cheeks lighting up with a blush.

"Speaking of," Gray started, his grin only growing.

"Nope," Tobin said, taking his hands from his overalls to throw them up.

"C'mon!" Gray whined. "D'ya love 'im?" the older of the two asked, leaning into Tobin's personal space briefly. Tobin took a moment to seriously think about the question as he put a hand on Gray's face and pushed him back.

"I don't know," he answered honestly after a long moment. "I don't think I'd exactly call it 'love' yet, but it's definitely something."

"Something?"

"Yeah. Like... warm butterflies."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me through this. I hope you enjoyed. Please spill your feelings all over the comments below.
> 
> I don't know what I'm going to do next, but I'm kind of crushing on Forsyth at the moment, so it might involve him. I'll brainstorm some ideas tonight, but since the weather has finally cleared up around here, I'm going to have to go back to work soon and will have a little less time to write. I'll try to keep the content coming, though, at least until my best friend finishes the game and we start working on things together.


End file.
